


Iron Heart

by Anonymous



Series: Iron Heart [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Alpha!Dean, Alpha!Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Angst, Apocalypse, F/M, Fluff, Grief, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Knotting, Masturbation, Mind Control, NSFW, Oral, Post-Apocalypse, Rape/Non-con Elements, Reader Insert, Romance, Sex, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Assault, Slow Burn, Smut, Torture, Violence, omega!reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-02 21:53:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 24
Words: 59,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10953453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Set in 2023. The world ended, and the population was decimated. Now, Alphas are the most dominant in the gene pool, and Omegas are widely coveted. The reader is an Omega who has been held against her will for ten years, one among many captured Omegas used and sold on. Can Dean save her, or will she save him?





	1. Part One

This was life.

An eight foot by eight foot cell with a tiny window. Toilet in the corner, and a cot to sleep on. A small cupboard with your meager possessions. It had been your life since you were sixteen years old, finding yourself a presenting Omega in the middle of the apocalypse, with no family and no friends.

Omegas didn’t last long unaccompanied when the world had ended.

No one was quite sure how it happened. You remembered being young, so goddamn long ago, when there had been Facebook, a weekly episode of your favorite sitcom, and hot dinner on the table when you came home from school. Then, everyone was sick, dying and there was no one left. Cell service went out, houses were left dark and the world fell quiet.

You were the only one of your family who hadn’t succumbed to the sickness. Most of your town had died, and you’d trekked on foot across three states, trying to reach your aunt in Idaho. But you’d never made it.

At sixteen years and nine months, your first heat had hit you, in the middle of a forest in Wyoming. Agonizing cramps, accompanied by sweating, fever and nausea unlike anything you’d ever experienced. You’d never met an Omega - your mother and father were both Betas, as was your brother, and as far as you knew, the recessive gene only emerged in one percent of the population.

Just your luck.

You’d managed to evade capture the first month. But as you’d crossed the border from Wyoming to Idaho, you’d fallen into a trap, picked up by a truck full of men, who’d immediately tied you down, and knocked you unconscious. When you woke up, you had no idea where you were or what awaited you.

Ten years on, you didn’t recognize the person you’d become.

The world had become a dark place. Lights were back on in houses, but people kept to small communities in the aftermath of the devastation. Entire cities were abandoned, and the government no longer existed. It was almost a primordial rule - and the Alphas were on top. Omegas, being even rarer now eighty percent of the world was dead, were a prized find. And they ran for a high price.

You’d been taken by a group of men who worked for a man you knew only as Sir - it was a rare event to even see him, and in the ten years you’d been captive here, you’d met him three times. Everything was managed by his gruff men, a mix of Betas and Alphas. Your specific handler was Tam, a large red headed Scottish Beta, who was mostly just strict. In some ways you were lucky; Tam didn’t punish or harm any of the Omegas under his control. Other Omegas were not so fortunate to escape injury, or even death, for acts considered against Alpha law.

There were numerous houses in this compound, three of which housed Omegas. As far as you knew, there were ten in each group, and your group was the oldest. Most Omegas were brought in, trained and sold off.

Training, as it became apparent after six months, did not work on you.

Instead, you were kept prisoner. You assisted in the duties expected of an Omega, helping with the new intakes, telling them what to expect. It was a position that afforded you certain privileges, if you could even call them that. You were permitted to wear clothes, minimal, but clothes nonetheless. And you didn’t get pimped out like the other unsellable Omegas. There had been more than one occasion where you’d had to attend to an Omega who’d been hurt in the process of completing a transaction for profit.

After your first few weeks in the compound, you’d found out where you were. You were still in America, in Washington State, one of the more populated areas. It had been hard to accept your future, and you’d fought tooth and nail against anyone who came near you, until they’d finally given up, realising your spirit wasn’t to be broken, and “Sir” had decided to keep you as an asset. Only once, an Alpha had approached when you were in heat, and attempted to knot you, and he’d found himself with a broken nose, a fractured wrist, and very,  _ very _ sore balls.

“Sir” had been impressed rather than angry, which was fortunate for you, and other Alphas knew not to try and attempt to take the fiery Omega. It was part of the reason Tam was your handler, as he wasn’t affected by the Alpha urges, and he was more easily able to convince you not to kill anyone who entered your cell.

Omegas weren’t supposed to have spirit. They were supposed to serve. Obey. Breed.

Your spirit, your soul, was the only thing you had left. You weren’t giving it up to anyone.

Today was quiet. It was January, and snow was falling softly outside. It seemed to snow a lot more since the end, like the world was colder since it happened. But you didn’t mind. You liked the cooler air and the beauty of the white landscape when you were allowed outside.

At around midday, when you were reading the only book you owned, “The Call Of The Wild” (which you knew by heart), there was a soft knock on your door. Tam always knocked, even though it wasn’t required of him, and you put your book down, looking up as he unlocked and opened the door.

“Hungry?” he asked, and you nodded. Breakfast had been early, and your stomach had started rumbling thirty minutes ago. Tam smiled, placing the tray on your bed, and you tucked into the sandwich, enjoying the taste of the fresh meat and bread. Everything was grown and farmed in the compound now - Walmart ceased trading when the world died. “Your presence is required this evening.”

Your eyes darted up, and you swallowed your mouthful of sandwich. “This evening? Isn’t it… it’s auction tonight.”

Tam nodded, leaning back against the wall as you took another bite. “Boss wants you there with Fifty-eight.”

“He’s selling her,” you stated, dismay clouding your words.

“He is,” Tam confirmed, tilting his head a little. “And you know better than to question that, Twenty.”

Twenty was your assigned number, and the only name you’d been called by in ten years. You still knew your real name - they hadn’t taken that from you like they often did the others. Swallowing the last bite of your sandwich, you unfolded your legs, hanging them off of the edge of the bed. “Why does he want me there? Fifty-eight can be restrained. I didn’t think he’d sell her so soon -”

“She’s in heat. And there’s a couple prospective buyers who want a young Omega in heat. Boss is offering her up to whoever gives him the best price.”

You sighed, picking up the tray and standing. “Do you want me to prep her for this?”

Tam nodded, taking the tray from you. “Boss says you’re the best one for the job.”

“Always am,” you agreed, your tone morose. “Am I allowed to wear anything to auction?”

“Sorry,” he replied with a shake of his head. “Collar only. You know the rules.” Within the compound, you were permitted clothes. But at auction, Omegas had to be seen to be controlled, to obey the law, and although you hated it, and wanted to fight, you knew that would only land you in trouble. And you didn’t want “Sir” to decide you weren’t fit to keep anymore. “Come on,” Tam ordered quietly. “I’ll take you down to her now.”

You nodded, following him out of your cell, and down the hall. He dropped the tray onto a trolley that one of the Beta women was using to serve out food to the other Omegas, before leading you down to the furthest cell. Before you reached the door, you could smell Fifty-eight’s heat, and hear her crying. Tam unlocked the door and held it open for you to enter, giving you a sharp nod as he closed it, locking you in.

“Fifty-eight?” you asked quietly, spotting her curled up in the corner. The small light they permitted each Omega was off, and the cell was thick with heat scent. “Hey, come out of there.”

“It hurts,” she whimpered, and you sighed, moving over to her, your bare feet padding on the floor of the cell. Heat was agonizing to go through, you knew that from ten years of it, and this girl was barely nineteen. “Twenty…”

You reached down, pulling her nude body against you, and she shuddered, sobbing freshly into the thin material of your shirt. Rubbing her shoulders, you rocked her slightly, shushing her tears, despite knowing that you could do nothing to stop the reason for them.

“You’re gonna be okay. Once… once you’ve got an Alpha -”

Fifty-eight sat upright, looking at you with wide, red eyes, her blonde hair wild and messy around her head. “I don’t want an Alpha. Not like this.”

“You don’t have a choice,” you said, keeping your voice soft, as if it would make the truth more bearable. It didn’t and fresh tears welled in the girl’s eyes. “Look, they’re gonna sell you. If you fight them, it’s going to be worse. Maybe the Alpha won’t be so bad.”

“You fought,” she replied, her chin quivering with emotion. “I’ve heard the other Omegas talk. Some of the Betas. That’s why you’re allowed to wear clothes, why you don’t get…” The words died on her lips, but you knew what she’d be about to say.  _ That’s why you don’t get used by the Alphas. _ “Are you here because they told you to make me complacent? Because you’ll calm me down so they can sell me like a whore?”

Irritation swelled in your chest, and you sucked in a breath to calm yourself. “I fought because I don’t know any other way.”

“You’re just as much their bitch as I am,” Fifty-eight spat, fire in her eyes to replace the desperation. “You do what they want, you just don’t let them fuck you.” She pushed you away. “I don’t  _ want _ this.”

“You think any of us did?” you hissed, losing your cool. “I do what I do to survive. Because I made myself  _ useful _ . That’s the only way any of us survive this world now. We’re Omegas.”

“We  _ serve _ ,” she sneered.

“I help,” you returned. “I help Omegas who end up here. I’ve stopped them hurting you, beating you. You think these things I do don’t make me sick? You think I  _ like _ being a prisoner here?” You grabbed her biceps, pulling her up to look her in the eye. “The world ended. This is how things are.”

Fifty-eight wilted then, collapsing against you. “I don’t want it to hurt.” What were you supposed to say to that? Beyond a few fumbled experiences with high school boys, and the self-satisfaction you gave yourself, you had no idea what to expect when an Alpha claimed a mate. You knew the specifics of  _ how _ but you didn’t know how it felt.

“You might be lucky,” you said, knowing it was likely that your words were a lie. “We’ve got a few hours. Let’s get you ready, and I’ll try and answer all the questions you have, okay?”

She nodded, pushing her blonde hair back from her tear stained face. “What was your name before?” she asked, and you hesitated. You hadn’t told anyone your name in so long.

“Y/N,” you whispered, helping her to her feet.

“I’m Michelle,” she replied. “I know we’re not supposed to use our names…” The smile she gave you was tentative, but you returned it, rubbing her shoulder gently. “Do you think he’ll use my name?”

You gave her the honest answer, the only one you had. “I don’t know.”

“You’re gonna stay with me, right? At auction?” You nodded, and Fifty-eight smiled. “Thank you.” There was a moment of silence, as you contemplated those two words. She was thanking you for something you’d been ordered to do. For agreeing to be there when she was sold to the highest bidder, to be used like property, with an uncertain future.

Maybe you didn’t have your spirit, or your soul, after all.


	2. Part Two

The auction room was a wide hall with a high ceiling, but it was warm enough for the season. Omegas were stood on small podiums, restrained, sometimes kneeling to please the surveying Alphas. You’d been placed behind Fifty-eight, who had dropped to her knees on her pedestal, more than likely out of comfort during her heat. Both of you were collared, with light chains around your wrists. 

“Sir” was present, talking with one of the handlers at the front of the hall. There were five Omegas up for sale this evening, although Fifty-eight was the youngest, and the only one in heat. To your left, a female Omega knelt with her head bowed, and a male Omega stood with his head held high. On your right, another two female Omegas, both stood with shoulders lax, posture defeated.

You chanced a look over your “owner”, wondering if he’d changed since the last time you saw him. He was tall, broad, blond and quite handsome, despite being in his early fifties. His smile was friendly and wide, but you knew that was a show for the clients. Any man who kept people as possessions was not friendly, and not to be trusted.

Tam nudged you, and you dropped your gaze. “Watch yourself, Twenty. Your focus is on Fifty-eight.”

“I know,” you replied, keeping your voice even, a show of obedience.

The main doors opened, and a group of people entered. They were a mix of men and women, Alpha and Beta, and you managed to watch them without raising your head. “Sir” went to greet them, but you couldn’t quite make out the conversation.

Time wore on as the Omegas were inspected, and sold off, one by one. Fifty-eight had started crying again, and you moved closer to comfort her, keeping your eyes on the ground and not looking at the clients.

“This is the young one, yes?” a feminine voice asked, and “Sir” chuckled.

“Yes. She’s very spry, very fertile.”

“She’s quite thin.”

You grit your teeth, chancing a look up, seeing a woman dressed in leather pants with pistol holsters either side, although they were empty. She had a stern face and hair tied back in a tight ponytail, and when she spotted you looking at her, her expression twisted.

“What is this one doing?”

“Sir” glanced at you, and you looked away, back to Fifty-eight. “Twenty has been with us for a long time. She is one of my most obedient, and she tends to the other Omegas. As Fifty-eight is in heat, she’s been helping her.”

The woman sniffed. “She’s not claimed?”

“No.”

“Hmm.” She leaned down, reaching for you, and you flinched away, aggression surging up inside you. “She isn’t trained?” the woman snapped, grabbing for you arm and dragging you forward. She was stronger than you, Alpha-strong, and you couldn’t help the snarl that tore itself from your lips.

“Twenty is not for sale,” “Sir” said, sternly, but the woman didn’t release you. “I would strongly suggest you let her go.”

The woman laughed bitterly. “Maybe you should sell her. Let someone break her in.”

“Get the fuck off of me,” you swore, pulling on her hold, feeling her fingers bruise your skin. She gasped, obviously unused to an Omega speaking to her like that. “Sir” didn’t say anything; he merely watched in amusement.

“The little bitch has guts. Do you like to fight, little bitch?”

You bared your teeth, feeling something snap in your chest. Snatching your arm back, and ignoring the way her sharp nails ripped at your skin, you pulled back your other arm and swung for her, catching her in the jaw. Almost instantly, Tam had hold of you, dragging you back by your chain as “Sir” laughed loudly. The woman hadn’t fallen, but she was rubbing her jaw in shock at your behavior.

“You allow this thing to live, Mr Forrest?” she asked, and you blinked at learning his name. His eyes slid to you, and he nodded, his smile remaining on his face.

“She’s quite entertaining,” he replied. “And unbreakable.”

The woman snorted in disgust, before returning her attention to Fifty-eight. “How much for this one?”

Tam held you back as the negotiations continued, and you sulked, remaining on your knees, watching them haggle over price. Money didn’t exist in this post-apocalyptic world, but there was always something to barter with.

Eventually, Fifty-eight was sold - thankfully not to the vile female Alpha, who left with the male Omega. An older male Alpha had won the bid for her, and she was lead away in soft leather cuffs, hopefully to a life with an Alpha who would care for her. You would never know.

“She’s not for sale.” The words made you look up sharply, as Mr Forrest - who seemed a little less intimidating now he had a name - spoke to another man. This Alpha was taller than him, broader, with light brown hair and eyes that looked haunted, even from across the room. He was dressed in jeans, boots and a plaid shirt, and had a line of stubble around his face. In your teenaged years, when the world was normal, he would have been the sort of man you’d have crushed on, watched on television, but now, he was just another Alpha.

The man spoke quietly, and you strained to hear, seeing them glance at you several times. Mr Forrest was frowning, as if he was contemplating something, and Tam tugged at your chain. The Alpha looked over at you, dark eyes boring into yours with an intensity you'd never seen before, and your chest tightened. Your stomach churned as he looked away but you couldn't stop staring at him.

“Really?” Mr Forrest said, as if the Alpha had said something he couldn’t believe. “That is an interesting offer, Mr Winchester.”

“Look, I came here out of curiosity because you asked,” the Alpha, Mr Winchester, said. “I wasn’t expecting to see anything other than your seedy little operation. But I want her. And I’m willing to pay whatever you want.”

Mr Forrest smiled, and you realized with a horrific sinking sensation in your belly, that your life as you knew it was about to change.

*****

Usually, if an Omega was sold, they left there and then with their new owner. As Tam took hold of the chain attached to your wrists, and started to lead you away, you frowned, looking up at him in confusion.

“Tam?” you asked, tugging a little on the restraint. “Did...did “Sir” just sell me?”

Tam glanced at you over his shoulder before sighing. “Yeah.”

“Then where are you taking me?”

“Back to your room to get your things. Boss is gonna come up to see you off.”

You frowned, knowing that wasn’t the protocol, and feeling more than a little apprehensive of the tall man he’d sold you to. But asking Tam anything wouldn’t help, so you followed him back to the cell obediently, sitting on your bed with your hands folded in your bare lap to wait for Mr Forrest.

A few moments after you’d arrived, Mr Forrest knocked on the door and walked in with a smile, and a pile of clothing in his hand. “These are for you, Twenty.” He placed them on the bed next to you, as you blinked in bewilderment. “I know this isn’t usual, but… well, you were never a  _ usual _ Omega,” he chuckled, standing in front of you. “You know, I don’t often bother to remember the names of the Omegas I have through here. In ten years, I’ve never forgotten yours, Y/N.”

Your head snapped up at the use of your real name, and your eyes met his, seeing how cold they really were. The warm smile he had on his face didn’t reach his eyes in the slightest. “Why are you selling me?”

Mr Forrest sighed, folding his arms over his chest. “You are an asset I will struggle to replace. But as it stands, Dean Winchester has done me a great service this past week, and he has offered me something as payment that I simply cannot refuse. He seems rather… taken with you.” He smirked, raising one eyebrow as he peered down at you. “I did warn him of your capricious behavior but he paid it no mind.”

A million questions ran through your head, but you didn’t vocalise any of them. Your eyes moved to the pile of clothes - a pair of pants, and a simple white shirt. “I didn’t think Omegas were allowed to wear clothes in public.”

“Mr Winchester insisted,” Mr Forrest said, a note of disapproval in his voice. “Something about not attracting attention. He has some shoes for you, and he requested that your collar be removed. You won’t be restrained, Y/N, but I must warn you, Mr Winchester is not a man you want to piss off.”

You swallowed thickly, tears stinging your eyes, and you nodded obediently, suddenly realising that Fifty-eight had been entirely right. You were just as much a bitch as she was, and now you had been sold to someone who could probably hurt you. An Alpha you didn’t know, and like her, didn’t want.

“You have five minutes. Tam will take you down to the main door. I will miss you, Y/N,” Mr Forrest said, dropping his arms to his side for a second, before pressing two fingers underneath your chin and lifting your gaze to his. “Once upon a time, I thought I could have made you mine. But I see that you are not destined for that.” He released his hold on you, glancing to Tam and nodding, before he left the cell without saying another word.

Your bottom lip wobbled as you watched Tam pick up your singular book, which was pretty much your only possession, and quickly, you pulled on the clothes. Neither of you spoke as your handler led you back down to the empty auction hall, and out to the front, where a sleek black classic car sat idling. Mr Winchester stood, leaning against the driver side door, hands thrust deep in his jacket as he watched Tam lead you up.

“Here,” the large Scot said, passing you your book, and you accepted it, blinking up at him through watery eyes. “Take care, Twenty.” You nodded, too scared to respond in case your emotions and terror got the best of you. Turning to Mr Winchester, you bowed your head, and he tutted, pushing up off of the car.

“Get in,” he ordered, and you ducked down a little, before pattering around to the passenger side. As you climbed in, he sat heavily in the driver's seat, and you cast a long glance back at the compound, wondering what would happen to the other Omegas. “Seat belt,” Mr Winchester ordered.

“Yes, Mr Winchester,” you replied, automatically, feeling something shrivel in your stomach as you grabbed for the seat belt.

He looked at you sharply, a twinge of disgust on his face. “It’s Dean.”

“Oh,” you whispered, shocked at the way he was instantly so informal. Most Alphas liked to be referred to respectfully - some preferred “Alpha” or “Master”. Obviously, Dean wasn’t “most” Alphas.

“Can you drive?” he asked, not looking at you as he pulled the car away from the compound entrance. Nerves made your hands shake as you answered.

“I know how. I never got my permit and…”

“Well, you don’t need a permit now,” he replied, cutting you off. “But I don’t imagine they let you drive while you were in their hands. You’ll have to learn.” A sigh left him, and you folded your hands in your lap, sitting bolt upright, completely unsure of how to behave. “It’s a full day's drive back to Kansas. We’ll stop on the way and sleep. I’m not letting you drive Baby without some lessons.”

You stared at him, wondering if he even knew that you were an Omega, and he was an Alpha. Omegas didn’t drive. They didn’t do anything like that anymore. You didn't think people  _ named _ their cars anymore either. And Kansas? Voicing your questions wasn’t an option though; Alpha law forbade insolent behavior and you didn’t want to piss this guy off. He seemed dangerous.

“You can talk, you know,” Dean muttered, glancing at you. “If you’re gonna be sat in that seat, we can have a conversation.”

“I don’t… I’m sorry, I just… Omegas aren’t allowed to talk freely. It’s the law.”

He barked a laugh, shaking his head. “God, Forrest is a piece of work. How long’s he had you trapped up in that place?”

“Ten years,” you whispered, feeling fresh tears in your eyes.

Dean shook his head, putting his foot down to push the car a little faster. “The world ends and some assholes think they’re entitled. There’s no fucking laws anymore, for Omegas or otherwise. Sure, you go for a higher price, and you gotta be with an Alpha or anyone will think you’re fair game but laws? Laws ended when the world did. Forrest just likes to control his bitches.”

You flinched at the way he said it, and sank down into your seat a little, focusing your eyes on your hands. Dean didn’t speak again for a few moments, before he reached over towards you. Fear flooded your system as you thought he was going to touch you, but then he turned the radio on, a cassette clicking into place and playing rock music.

“Not too loud?” he asked, but it didn’t sound like he actually cared what you thought about the volume. “If you’re not gonna talk, we can listen to music.”

There was no argument coming from you, and you turned to look out of the window, seeing snow covered scenery flash by. The majority of it was trees and fields, with the odd empty house. Eventually, your eyes fluttered shut, and you drifted off into a dreamless sleep.


	3. Part Three

Dean wasn’t sure what he was doing. At the start of the week, he’d been clearing out a vampire nest that had been causing trouble for what he thought was a community. The “leader” there, Mr Forrest, had been losing people to the monsters, and Dean had agreed to destroy them, for a small fee. Not like the hunting he used to do before the world ended, but the things that went bump in the night didn’t cease with the apocalypse and supplies were harder and harder to come by.

He just hadn’t been expecting to trade for an Omega at the same time.

She was asleep now, resting in the passenger seat that had been vacant for nearly ten years. He had to hold back from looking at her, memorizing her features, and he wasn’t entirely sure why. Forrest had convinced him to attend the auction as a guest, in case he saw, in the man’s words “anything that could appease my gratitude for your service”. Dean had never agreed with the way Alphas paraded Omegas like second class citizens, and it made him sick to his stomach to see them lined up, nude and chained like possessions for sale.

Then he’d seen her. Well, he’d sensed her first, despite the presence of the other Omegas. The way she’d stood up to the female Alpha, the way she’d twisted and snarled. She’d caught his attention in a split second, and against his better judgement, he’d asked about her. When Forrest had said she wasn’t for sale, something inside him had snapped, and he’d offered up something he knew was coveted in this day and age. Luckily, Dean was never short on guns.

Forrest had gone through everything with him, to the point of signing paperwork, which Dean had shoved in the trunk of the Impala with the intention of never fucking looking at it again. Everything in his body crawled at the way the man worked, from insisting on Alpha Law being obeyed, which was bullshit in Dean’s opinion. Power over the weak, something he’d never been able to stand. Forrest wanted her to be presented as she was, but Dean wasn’t riding with a naked chick shotgun, and insisted she be dressed. The other Alpha hadn’t been impressed with that, so Dean made up some crap about attracting unwanted attention on the long drive home, and Forrest acquiesced.

“Y/N is a very special Omega to me, Mr Winchester,” he’d drawled, and Dean had cringed at the way he said it, like some kind of pervert. Which he was, really. “She’s never been broken. Never knotted. I will be sad to see her go.”

“I’ll take good care of her,” Dean had responded, through gritted teeth, wanting to do nothing but shoot this man between the eyes for his crimes against other human beings. At least the Omega would be relatively unscarred if they’d never touched her like that. He wondered why that was, only to have it answered by Forrest.

“She’s a fighter. Very aggressive and outspoken. She nearly killed one of my men when she was first brought here, and we had to find other ways to make her useful. She’s become an asset really. But others can be trained to take her place.” God, his smile was horrific, trying to be friendly but coming across as predatory. Dean wanted to be out of there as soon as he could.

Forrest had seemed happy with the buttload of guns Dean gave him, and had scurried off to find the Omega where she’d been taken back to. Dean had waited outside patiently, until the gate opened and a tall red headed guy stepped out with the girl behind him. She was unchained, but looked terrified, and Dean could feel himself trembling as he watched her say goodbye to the Beta with her. The large man handed her a book, and she took it, trying to avoid eye contact with Dean as he told her to get in the car.

She was like a wild animal, skittish and wide-eyed, and Dean wasn’t sure what to do with her. Conversation hadn’t been forthcoming, so he’d put some music on, only to find her asleep against the window a few moments later. He decided to let her rest, and turned the music down a little, tapping his fingers against the wheel as he drove and hummed along.

Night fell quickly once they’d left the compound, but Dean wasn’t bothered. Driving at night was how he normally operated, and he was good for a few hours before he’d need to stop. Y/N continued to sleep, even as he slowed to avoid the heavier snow drifts, nearing the border of Washington State. As they crossed further into Oregon, the snow turned to sleet and then to rain, before stopping altogether. By the time he pulled into Baker City, the skies were clear.

He quickly located a gas station, trying each of the pumps with no luck. Y/N was still out cold in the passenger seat, and Dean hesitated, knowing he needed gas, but reluctant to leave her alone. Any Alpha would sniff her out within a mile, and he didn’t want to risk anything happening. Scouting his surroundings, he spotted a garage behind the gas station, the rear of a car sticking out from the half closed shutters, and making his decision, he sprinted over, seeing several more vehicles out of sight.

Returning to the Impala, he started it up, letting it trundle backwards towards the garage. Once he was closer, he climbed out, rummaging through the trunk to find a hose, and promptly started checking each of the vehicles for gas. Forty minutes later, the Impala was full again, and Dean grimaced at the foul taste in his mouth from syphoning gas through the hose.

He was alerted to Y/N’s wakefulness by her opening the car door and climbing out, stretching her limbs as she looked around. “You’re awake,” he stated rather dumbly, clearing away the hose and wiping his hands on a scrap piece of cloth dangling from an ammo box. Y/N tiptoed around the car, spotting the open trunk and the not-so-hidden compartment. Her eyes went wide as she spied the guns, machetes, and numerous religious artefacts scattered around in the messy holding. Dean didn’t bother to cover it up; instead, he focused on her bare feet, filthy from the gas station floor. “Hey, let me get you those boots I had…” he trailed off, reaching into the trunk, digging around past his duffel and locating the boots. “They might be a little on the big side, they were a friend’s…” he stopped again, as Y/N made no move to take them from his outstretched hands. “You okay?”

She nodded, slowly dragging her eyes from the weapons to the boots, carefully avoiding looking at him. It irked him that she wouldn’t, but he wasn’t going to push the subject when they were in the middle of nowhere. She’d have to get used to him eventually. “I’m fine,” she whispered, rushing the words out like he’d do something if she didn’t verbally acknowledge his question. “What time is it?”

Dean shrugged. “Around midnight. I’m gonna keep going if you wanna curl up in the back or whatever.”

She shuddered, taking the boots and slipping them on as Dean closed the hidden compartment and the trunk, waiting for her to straighten. He turned away, walking round to the driver’s side, watching her for a few moments as she moved in the clunky boots, the sound of them thudding on the concrete echoing around the garage area. It made a small smile tug as his lips as she opened the rear door and climbed in, curling up on the backseat. As he opened the driver’s door, he paused, before turning back to the trunk, opening it and grabbing a thick red blanket from the back.

He wouldn’t forget the way she looked up at him, eyes shining bright with confusion as he opened the back door and threw the blanket over her, making sure she was covered, before shrugging off his coat and balling it up to put down as a makeshift pillow. “Get some rest,” he ordered gently, and she averted her eyes, making him sigh in frustration.

Climbing into his seat, he started the engine and pulled away from the garage, trying not to glance in the rear view mirror as the small huddled figure on his backseat.

*****

Four hours later, Dean could feel his eyes getting excessively tired, and he put his foot down as they crossed the bridge into Twin Falls. Y/N was awake again, swamped in the blanket, her legs drawn up underneath her as she watched the world out of the window. They passed rows of empty, boarded up shops and a large mall, before Dean took a left and headed down towards the emptier part of town.

Everything was deadly silent and pitch black as he pulled the car up to a house that stood alone, ten minutes from the main town, driving it through what was once an immaculately kept lawn, until he was sure they were out of sight at the back. He stretched in his seat, before getting out of the car and opening the backdoor, waiting for Y/N to climb out. She clutched the blanket to her chest, her fingers curling around the old book she’d brought with her, as she looked up at the house.

“Home for the night,” he muttered, closing the door behind her. “Come on, we’ll get inside and get warm.”

Y/N nodded, waiting for him as he grabbed his duffel from the back, following him into the house through the back door. The inside of the residence was dark, and Dean pulled a torch out of his bag, shining it ahead of the both of them.

“I used this place on the way up here. Whole town is dead – nothing for miles, but you can’t be too careful,” he explained, more to fill the void of silence than actually explain anything. “Here,” he gestured ahead into the large sitting room. “I’ll get a fire going and er, find some more blankets. You get comfy over there.” He pointed at a bundle of sleeping bags and covers on the floor, from his last stop, and Y/N nodded, shuffling over to them. “Wasn’t expecting company on the way back.”

She didn’t reply and simply sank to her butt on the floor, still cradling her book, swaddled in the red blanket. Dean stared for a moment, before rolling his eyes and walking away. Upstairs in the linen cupboard, he found some more blankets and a pillow, and trudged back downstairs, dumping them on the opposite side of the room to Y/N. Kneeling down in front of the fire, he ignored her as he threw some logs on and started to work getting it lit, finally smiling triumphantly when the flames licked and crackled to life.

Y/N watched the flames, almost mesmerised by them, and Dean watched the color of the heat dance over her face, shining in her eyes as she stared. “How old are you?” he asked, quietly, and she blinked, but didn’t look at him.

“Twenty six,” she replied. “I was sixteen when the world ended.”

“Huh.” He sat back onto his pile of blankets, watching her. “Makes me feel old.” She looked up for a split second, fright on her face at the realisation of her action, and Dean frowned. “Forrest said you were a fighter. But you’re terrified of me.”

She swallowed visibly. “He said I… I shouldn’t piss you off. And the weapons…”

Dean shook his head. “I don’t hurt innocent girls. I hunt monsters. That’s why I was at that stupid auction in the first place.”

“Monsters?” she asked, her brow creasing, and he realised he’d piqued her curiosity.

“Yeah, monsters. World ended, but it didn’t take them with it. Demons, vampires, wendigo – and there’s way more of those since the apocalypse.” He sighed heavily, wishing he didn’t have to think about why the world was the way it was. It was his fault, after all. “I hunt things that haunt what’s left of humanity. Although, I sometimes wonder why I bother when there’s people like Forrest in the world. Nasty piece of work. Convincing Omegas that their existence is to serve Alphas. Fucking disgusting.”

Y/N flinched at his tone. “Then why did you buy one? If – if not to serve you?”

He didn’t know how to answer. Slowly, he lifted his shoulders, dropping them in a shrug. She watched him for a few more moments, before sighing and shifting in her seat, moving the covers around to her liking as Dean picked up a poker and prodded at the fire. Y/N placed her book on the floor almost reverently, and he frowned, catching the title in the flickering light.

“The Call Of The Wild?” he asked, curious about her choice of literature.

“My mom…” she whispered, so quiet that he had to strain to hear her over the crackling logs. “She used to read it to me. It was her favorite book. And the only thing I have left of… before.” Her gaze was fixated on what she was doing to the blankets, but he could see her bottom lip quivering with emotion. “I read it every night. But when I tried to read it in the car, I felt sick.”

He made a noise of amusement, dropping his eyes to the floor. “My brother -” God, it physically hurt to talk about him, even now, all these years later. “He used to read a lot in the car. I never got how he managed it. I always felt like I was gonna throw up when I did.”

Y/N looked up. “You have a brother?”

“Had,” Dean corrected, a little more sharply than he needed to, and she withdrew again, shoving her feet into the end of a worn sleeping bag and layering herself up. The room was chilly, despite the fire and he sighed heavily as he watched her shuffle around to get comfortable. “Sorry. I don’t talk about him. It’s -”

“I had a brother,” she interrupted. “He was a pain in the ass. But I miss him. So much.”

He could feel his eyes watering, and quickly he sniffed, wiping at his eyes. “Hey, how about you read me some of that story? I’ve never read it myself.”

Y/N’s face didn’t betray any emotion but she nodded and picked up the book, shifting onto her belly to open it. Dean wasn’t sure if she was doing it because she wanted to, or because he’d asked, but either way, just hearing the soft feminine lilt of her voice was something he realised he’d missed in all the long years. Maybe one day, she would do it because she wanted to, not because she felt she had to obey an Alpha.

“ _ Buck did not read the newspapers, or he would have known that trouble was brewing, not alone for himself, but for every tide-water dog, strong of muscle and with warm, long hair, from Puget Sound to San Diego. Because men, groping in the Arctic darkness, had found a yellow metal, and because steamship and transportation companies… _ ”

Dean shifted, leaning against the wall to his back, watching her intently as she read by the firelight. Her voice was soothing, and he felt his eyes growing heavy, despite his intention to remain awake for a while until he was sure they were safe, although he had done a full sweep of this town on his trip up to Washington State.

Eventually, he gave in, and Y/N kept reading until she heard soft snores coming from his direction. She looked up, seeing him propped up against the wall, knees bent and the poker loosely held in his hand. Shutting the book, she climbed out of the blankets and sleeping bag, standing in front of her captor, considering him for a moment.

He was very handsome, even if he was older than any man she’d ever felt attraction to before. And there was a certain spark in her belly that hadn’t dimmed since the moment she’d locked her eyes with his. But it was a terrifying sensation, dizzying and overwhelming, and entirely unwelcome at this point. She needed to figure it all out.

With a soft exhale, she turned, settling back into her makeshift bed. She could run, but lasting alone was an even scarier prospect than facing the feelings churning inside her. It was safer with Dean than on her own, out there, in the world that didn’t exist anymore.

By the time she fell asleep, the sun was peeking over the horizon, bringing with it a new day, and a new life.


	4. Part Four

It was rare that he slept more than a few hours, and he was awake before Y/N even stirred. He climbed out of his blankets quietly, before piling fresh wood and kindling into the fireplace. Once it was alight and burning steadily, he left the room, heading out to the car and grabbing the bag of supplies, before returning inside. Y/N had shifted, rolling onto her other side, but she was still asleep.

He couldn’t explain the twitch of a smile on his face.

Midday came and went before she woke, and he wondered how long it had been since she’d had proper sleep. From his point of view, it would be difficult to get proper rest when you were a prisoner; hell, he’d learned that from all the times he’d been held against his will. It made him reluctant to wake her, so he set about making sure there was something for her to eat when she did open her eyes.

She sat up with a gasp a split second after she roused from sleep, her eyes wide and expression clouded with panic and confusion. Dean literally saw the moment that everything came rushing back to her and she locked her gaze on his for less than a second, before averting it once more, and he couldn’t help his sigh of frustration.

But then, he wouldn’t trust a complete stranger that had just bought him and had a trunk full of weapons either. At least she hadn’t run off in the night - that would have complicated things a whole lot more. Clearly, Y/N knew she was safer with him than out there in the dead world alone.

“Hey,” he greeted, softly, keeping his expression neutral. She didn’t reply, just curled her legs underneath her until they were crossed, folding her hands in her lap. “I made some food. It’s only basic - I’m not a fantastic chef.”

That earned him a little quirk of her lips, but she still wouldn’t look at him. Dean looked back to the food, dishing up the vegetables he’d boiled over the fire and the small amount of meat he’d bartered back in Washington. The little plate he had for her wasn’t much, and it was times like these he missed the convenience of diner food (god, what he wouldn’t give for a burger or two), but he made do. Her fingers were cold as she took the plate, and he frowned.

“I’ve got some thick sweaters in the car. You look a little chilly. Did you sleep okay?”

She shrugged, picking at the food he’d given her, and his frown deepened. He knew she must be hungry; she hadn’t eaten at all the night before. In fact, he had no idea  _ when _ her last meal had been. Reaching over to his duffel, he pulled out a sealed bottle of water, stretching to place it in front of her. Y/N looked at it, before flicking her eyes up to him briefly.

“Thank you,” she whispered, taking the water, and he finally relaxed.

“We should get moving soon. There’s a bathroom upstairs if you wanna freshen up. On the road within the hour, yeah?”

She nodded, sipping at the cool liquid, and he stood, clearing everything away. He didn’t watch her as she ate, instead leaving her to her privacy and heading out to the car again. Checking his supplies made him feel a little distracted, and he made a mental note of things he needed to find. Things at the bunker were running a little low, so it was likely he’d have to scavenge some stuff on the way home.

When he went back inside, having grabbed a sweater for her, Y/N had folded up all the bedding, and cleared away her things from her meal. She was wide awake now, and sat on the ratty old couch, on the only bit that didn’t have springs sticking out.

“You ready?”

“Yeah,” she replied, keeping her voice quiet and submissive. Dean had already decided he hated that, and resolved to bring her out of her shell. He didn’t want her to be afraid of him, and he wanted that spirited Omega he’d first laid eyes on at the compound. The thought of her, naked and fighting, made him hard without a second thought, and he grimaced, shifting to adjust himself in his jeans. His arousal was the last thing she needed to be confronted with if he wanted her to be less afraid.

“Here,” he muttered, handing her the sweater, and she took it, slipping it over the thin shirt she already had on. When she was dressed, he moved past her, picking up the bundle of blankets to carry them back out to the Impala. “We’ve gotta make a stop somewhere for supplies.”

Y/N nodded, walking around to the passenger side and climbing in, and Dean looked skywards for a second before following suit. He started the car as she sat there, silently, clutching the book she’d started reading to him last night.

An hour later, they’d cross the county line, and he spotted a large mall, the parking lot scattered with abandoned and smashed up vehicles. He pulled the Impala into the lot slowly, keeping his eyes peeled for anything dangerous, but everything looked dead. Especially the corpses on the floor.

“What happened here?” Y/N asked, her eyes wide as she took in the devastation in front of them. Dean stopped the car, turning off the engine and getting out, waiting for her to do the same.

“It happened in a few places,” he said, surveying the bodies everywhere. “When it started, people were asking questions. Army came in. Started shootin’ anyone who caused a problem.” He sighed, shaking his head as he closed the car door. “World really went to hell.”

She didn’t reply, quietly shutting her door and watching as he rounded the sleek black vehicle to open the trunk. He pulled out a gun and his favorite machete, stowing the blade in his duffel, before selecting one of his smaller side arms and making sure it was loaded.

“You ever shoot a gun?” he asked, and Y/N snapped her head up, her mouth opening and closing a little.

“I, er, my dad… he took me shooting once. I wasn’t very good.”

Dean chuckled, closing the lid and approaching her, handing her the small Beretta 9mm. “It’s easy. You’re probably not gonna need it, but here -” He took her hand, ignoring the thrill of warm at the touch of her skin. She tensed, but didn’t pull away. “It’s loaded. Six rounds. Safety is off. Point, aim, shoot. If anyone or anything comes at you, I’m hoping you’ll run, but if you can’t, aim for the legs. Knees preferably. Thigh is okay, if you get the inner part - they’ll bleed out.”

The colour had drained from her face, but she was nodding, and he released his hold on her, his heart thudding in his chest at the loss of contact. Suddenly, he wasn’t sure if she’d tensed because of the gun or because of  _ him _ , but he didn’t have time to analyse that right now.

“Keep behind me, okay? We’ll check the grocery stores,” he paused, realising something, “and the clothing stores. Pick out whatever you want or need. I don’t really have anything at the bunker for you.” His eyes dropped to her bare feet. “Where are your boots?” he asked.

“In the car,” she whispered, her fingers clenching around the gun as she held it in front of her stomach, her eyes focused on it. “They were hurting my feet.”

“We’ll see what we can find inside. Never know what you’re gonna tread in.”

She didn’t argue, and he moved around her, heading for the mall entrance, instinctively feeling her close behind him. 

The mall doors were smashed and glass littered the floor, and Dean frowned, glancing behind him to see Y/N stepping carefully over the debris, no sign of a wince or anything on her face. He shrugged, deciding that she’d tell him if she was hurt, so he wasn’t going to worry. Further inside, shutters were pulled from shop doorways, and bodies were strewn across the dulled linoleum floor.

A bird flew across the top of the building rafters, and Y/N jumped, aiming her gun high, prompting Dean to laugh under his breath as she blushed at her mistake. “It’s okay. You’re alert. That’s good.”

“There’s a JC Penney over there,” she replied, dropping her eyes to the floor.

“Good plan,” he said, smiling as he headed for the large storefront. The shutters were bent over, allowing easy access, and he raised an eyebrow at the large red “P” that had been torn, or fallen, from the sign above the door. Dean climbed through first, holding out a hand to Y/N, who took it as she followed him.

He tried to ignore the renewed warmth from her touch, snatching his hand back as soon as they were inside.

“Here, you go and check the clothing. I’m going to see if there’s anything else we can make use of.” He gave her a sharp nod, not waiting for a reply before he bolted off. The electricals section was up ahead, and he shrugged, wondering if there was anything at all he could make use of.

Y/N was out of sight, but he wasn’t worried. It was unlikely there was anyone around in this place, and giving her a little leeway, and a little trust, might go some way to making her trust him in return. Plus, he wanted a few moments alone to muddle through his own feelings that seemed to be churning and twisted constantly when he was around her.

His fingers brushed over a dusty shelf, filled with stereos, but he wasn’t paying attention. Her face seemed to swim in his mind, and he wondered if he’d made the right decision, taking this on. He intended to train her, to give her some sort of purpose in this awful world - it was better than any future she faced in Washington. The mere thought of her being used, even  _ touched _ by another Alpha, especially Forrest, made anger curl in his belly and his fists clench.

Yes, he’d made the right decision. Whatever connection he felt to her, it had saved her, and he had to focus on that. He still  _ saved _ people. He still did what he was put on this earth to do, despite failing all those years before.

He wouldn’t give in to his baser instinct with her. He’d control himself and try to give her the chance that had been snatched from her. If she wanted him, further down the line, when she wasn’t frightened and flinching, when she truly  _ trusted _ him, then he’d give her whatever she wanted.

It wasn’t a stretch to say that he already wanted to give her the world, and he’d hadn’t felt anything remotely like this for another human being in too long.

Gun fire echoed through the store, and Dean span round, cocking his gun as he quickly ascertained which direction it had come from. As he started to move towards the women’s clothing department, a feminine scream sounded.

His blood ran cold, and he took off running.


	5. Part Five

The gun felt foreign in your hands, the cool metal a sharp contrast to the heat of Dean’s skin. He seemed like a furnace that lit you from the inside out, and every touch just increased the connection that was drawing you into him. As he helped you climb through the broken JC Penney shutter, you sucked in a sharp breath at the caress of his fingers on yours, dared to glance up at him, only to have him snatch his hand back like he’d been burned.

He was making an excuse to get away from you, but at least he didn’t think you’d run. For a few moments, you stood at the front of the store, feeling a little lost in the unfamiliar surroundings, before you started to follow the signs to the womenswear section.

The clothes on the rails were dusty, some of them moth-bitten, and you ran your free hand over the fabrics, grimacing at the ancient styles. Apparently when the world had ended, floral had been in.

Turning away from the rails, you moved over to the shelves of t-shirts, finding some at the back that were in good condition, although they smelled a little damp. Most of them were plain colours, and you rifled through them for your size, picking a few out. When you came across the band shirts, you smiled, adding them to the pile you’d created on the floor.

A scent washed over you, and you stood, your back ramrod straight as your senses went haywire. Your fingers clenched around the gun, and you turned, eyes going wide at the sight of three hulking men, surrounding you and blocking any path out of the section. Backing up, you felt the shelves wobble, and you raised the gun, hand visibly shaking at the threat you were facing.

The frontmost man sniffed the air, his nostrils flaring and his teeth showing as he smiled in a cruel manner. “Sweet little Omega. All alone?”

You shivered with fear, shaking your head. The fight or flight in you had already been decided - you’d never run from anything in your life and you weren’t about to start now, despite Dean’s words in your head.

“She’s not claimed,” another man growled, practically snarling with teeth that were well overdue a toothbrush. “You want her first?”

The first man’s smile widened. “Oh yeah, she’ll do nicely for the boys.” He lunged forward, knocking over a rail of clothes, and for a second, you thought the noise might alert Dean, but they landed sideways, the fabric cushioning the sound. “Come here, pretty bitch,” the man snarled, and your fingers tightened on the trigger of the gun. But it wasn’t enough pressure, and the Alpha grabbed you around the middle, knocking the wind right out of you and you hit the ground with him on top of your significantly smaller body.

“Smells good,” he snarled, his hands pinning your arms to the ground as you struggled with him, instinct coming to the front of your actions. You snapped your teeth at him, kicking out with your legs, but his weight was too much, and he just laughed. “Bet you’re gonna feel real good stretched out around my knot, little bitch.”

The gun in your hand felt hot, and you squeezed as tightly as you could, and it went off, firing in the direction of a dusty mannequin, hitting it in the head and felling it with a thud. The Alpha on you made a guttural noise, smacking the gun out of your hand before pressing his groin against you and you fought the urge to vomit at the feel of his arousal.

Opening your mouth, you screamed, as loudly as you could, only to have his lips crush against yours, cutting the sound off. He tasted foul, like rotten fruit and cigarettes, and without thinking twice, you slammed your mouth shut, smashing your teeth together and tasting blood. The Alpha roared, rearing back on his haunches.

Out of nowhere, Dean appeared, tackling the Alpha off of your body, lifting the weight that had been pinning you down, and you barely had a second to recover before the other two were coming for you. Dean had the one that had attacked you on the floor, punching at his face with a vigor that should have scared you.

“She’s got a fucking Alpha!” one of the other men shouted.

“Kill him!” his pal replied, his eyes focused on you as he reached out to grab you off of the floor. Snatching his wrist, you used the momentum to spin, dragging him down with you and you rolled, jamming your knee between his legs to crush his testicles. He howled in pain, just as his friend’s hand clutched the back of your head, dragging you backwards by your hair. 

A gunshot rung in your ears, and you panicked, your hands scrabbling at the hold on your locks. You tossed from side to side, trying to see Dean through the clothing racks, and when he finally appeared in your sights, you felt a brief second of relief that he was okay. The man you’d attacked on the floor was up, and he went for Dean, just as the one holding you threw you backwards into a shelf, punching you square in the jaw.

It was a dizzying hit, stunning you, and your assailant took advantage, straddling you, grabbing hold of your head with both hands and slamming you backwards into the shelf. Pain radiated through you, making you feel sick and angry, and you cried out as he put his hand around your throat.

“Stupid little bitch,” he growled, squeezing his fingers, and you felt your airway being cut off. Your struggles renewed, and you reached up with your other hand, clawing at his face with your nails and he yelled in pain. His fingers loosened and you used every ounce of weight you had to lunge upwards, crashing your head into his chin.

The headbutt didn’t dislodge him, but it gave you enough to shove him to the floor, and you pounced, doing the only thing you could think of - you sank your teeth into his neck, right where you thought his jugular might be. He screeched, struggling as you applied more and more pressure, feeling the skin tear and blood spurt into your mouth.

“Y/N!” Dean’s voice broke through the haze of anger controlling you, and you released the man, sitting back to see him splutter and choke as blood pumped out of the wound. You felt it, hot and sticky, dribbling down your chin, the taste rolling in your mouth.

You promptly turned and vomited over the floor, bracing your body weight with your hands as you wretched and heaved up everything you’d eaten.

The man on the floor gurgled and breathed his last, his entire body going limp as blood started to pool underneath his head.

“Fuck…” Dean whispered, using his foot to kick at the man’s shoulder, before holstering his gun and bending to place one hand on your back. You jumped in fright, raising wild eyes to meet his, seeing blood on his face, and a cut down one cheek. “Hey, it’s alright. You’re… you’re okay, sweetheart.”

Later, you’d wonder what came over you, but in that moment, you were just grateful to see him okay and alive. You propelled yourself into his arms, flinging your arms around his neck as you sobbed freely, and Dean shushed you, rocking you back and forth as you sunk to the floor.

Long moments ticked by as you both sat there, surrounding by the three dead men, blood staining the carpet tiles all around. Dean didn’t rush you to move, and didn’t seem concerned about any other possible attackers.

“Let’s get out of here,” he finally said, and you nodded, feeling uncomfortable with dried blood on your skin, mingling with tears and sweat. As Dean stood and took your hand, you followed without question, watching him gather up the shirts you’d piled on the floor, and the discarded gun, handing it back to you, before stuffing the shirts into his bag. You took it with shaking fingers, looking up at him for confirmation. “You did good, Y/N.”

“I felt helpless,” you admitted, your body sagging in defeat. “I  _ feel _ helpless.”

Dean shook his head, stopping to turn to you. “From what I’ve seen, you’re anything but,” he whispered, cupping your bloody cheek, smiling softly at you. “Come on.” He tugged on your hand, and you followed obediently.

The encounter didn’t cut the shopping trip short, and by the time you were back in the Impala, you had a pair of boots that fit, along with socks, underwear, pants, shirts and some essentials you’d managed to find in the grocery store. Dean had a bag laden with the few supplies he’d managed to locate, although he wasn’t entirely sure if they would be any good.

“Canned goods,” he growled, tossing them into the trunk. “Always a staple for the apocalypse. They’ll do if we’re desperate.”

You pulled down the sun visor in the car, cleaning your face off with a cloth and a bottle of water, hoping against hope that Dean had bathing facilities back at his “bunker”. Grime and dirt covered you, and the feel of the Alpha that attacked you lingered on your skin, along with his scent. You shook in your seat, looking down at your bloodied hands while Dean slid in next to you.

“Hey,” he murmured, turning in his seat to look at you. “You good?”

You nodded, still shaking, not willing to look at him in case he saw the truth in your eyes. Alphas had come at you before, but never like that. You’d never had to  _ kill _ anyone before, and today, you’d ripped out some guy’s throat.

“I’m fine,” you whispered, your throat hoarse. Dean probably knew it was a lie, but he left it alone, turning the key in the ignition, and pulling away from the mall, and the men you’d murdered.

*****

A few hours later, and night was falling again, just as the road took you over the border into Colorado. Dean was tired, you could tell, and you felt it yourself - the adrenaline from the fight had worn off and left you trembling.

Straight roads and freeways gave rise to mountains and forests, and you stared out the window at the clear, starry sky. The full moon hung high in the blackness above you, just as Dean pulled the car past a sign for “Breckenridge”. It was a ghost town; half the buildings were crumbling, destroyed by fire. A few wolves roamed in between the houses and stores, and Dean swerved to avoid the fearless animals.

“We’ll carry on a little way out of town. Wolves have claimed this place,” he muttered, revving the car to spur it on. You nodded in agreement, looking out of the window, making eye contact with a large wolf standing on the hood of a burnout car. Her eyes gleamed as she stared at you, and as the Impala growled out of sight, a long howl pierced the night.

A few miles out of town, Dean pulled the car onto a residential street, where the houses were still intact. It looked like it was fairly new before the world had ended, with realtor signs still standing up and down the road. 

“This will do,” he said, pulling the car into a driveway, continuing on into the open garage. As he pulled to a stop, he sighed, not moving for a moment after he’d turned off the engine. “We’ll stay here for a few hours, get some rest and then do the last stretch.”

You opened the door, getting out and looking around the sparse garage. Dean busied himself shutting the open door, before keying the lock on the house door, pulling his gun free from his thigh holster as he stepped into the house. Waiting a few seconds, you followed behind, waiting in the large kitchen as he did a sweep of the house.

“It’s secure. No fireplace though. I don’t wanna risk burning the place down. You think you’ll be warm enough?” You shrugged at his question, and he raised his eyebrows at your lack of verbal response. “Okay, well, I’ll sort us out something eat. Can you check if the water is on?”

It was something to do, and you nodded, moving over to the kitchen sink, turning the tap. The pipes thudded and clunked, before a spurt of brown liquid came out, then went dead. “No water,” you called out, and Dean reappeared in the doorway with his bag and the blankets from the last house.

“Shit,” he cursed, growling under his breath as he moved through the house to the sitting room, not paying any attention to you as he dropped everything down. You lingered in the doorway, watching him, shivering a little in the cold.

You moved to sort out your bedding as he sorted out some food. The only options with no way to cook was the remainder of the fruit he’d bagged from your former home, which was fine because you had little to no appetite anyway. The stench of blood still felt thick in your nostrils, and you weren’t sure eating was something you wanted to entertain right now. Still, you forced down an apple, just to appease him, washing it down with a bottle of water that had a best by date that was about six years past.

“Get some sleep,” he ordered gently, and you snuggled down into the blankets, pulling your book out. Dean glanced at you were weary eyes, and you saw the hope there.

“ _ For two days and nights this express car was dragged along at the tail of shrieking locomotives; and for two days and nights Buck neither ate nor drank. In his anger he had met the first advances of the express messengers with growls, and they had retaliated… _ ” Your teeth chattered as you went on, and when Dean suddenly got up, you paused, wondering if you’d done something wrong. He picked up his blankets, dragging them over to your side.

“You’re freezing,” he said, laying down beside you. The blankets were thick between you, but the warmth of his body seeped through and you felt the shivering subside. On your side, you looked back to the book, trying to ignore the warmth of Dean’s arms around your smaller body.

“ _...by teasing him. When he flung himself against the bars, quivering and frothing, they laughed at him and taunted him. They growled and barked like detestable dogs, mewed, and flapped their arms and crowed. It was all very silly, he knew; but therefore the more outrage to his dignity, and his anger waxed and waxed. He did not mind the hunger so much, but the lack of water caused him severe suffering and fanned his wrath to fever-pitch. For that matter, high-strung and finely sensitive, the ill treatment had flung him into a fever, which was fed by the inflammation of his parched and swollen throat and tongue. _ ”


	6. Part Six

“Have you been alone, all this time?”

Your question was quiet, and you didn’t look at Dean as you spoke. He tapped his fingers on the wheel, not replying for a few moments, as though he was contemplating his answer.

“No. In the beginning… I had Sam. My brother.” He sucked in an audible breath, taking the next turn onto the freeway. Since waking at the house in Breckenridge, neither of you had talked much, and the first four hours of the drive were slow going. It was sunny but chilly, usual for a January in the Midwest. “The bunker, where we’re going? It belonged to the Men Of Letters.”

“The Men of who?”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, exactly. They’re… well, I guess they’re a little defunct now that the world is over. But it was theirs, and me and Sam, we were legacies. We did our part to stop the darkness in the world. Then Sam was gone, and I… I was left with Cas.”

You frowned, looking over at him. “Cas?”

“He’s… he was an angel. Now, he’s mostly human. And a little odd. But he’s harmless if you’re a friend.” He glanced over at you, catching your eye for a second. “You’ll get used to him. Mostly he reads, or gardens, or… does other former angel stuff.”

Turning back to the road, you stretched in your seat. “Can we stop soon? I need to pee.” He nodded, and you looked down at your hands in your lap. They were clean now, but you could still feel the warm blood on them, and taste it on your tongue, but you couldn’t say anything to Dean. It had been awkward, waking beside him this morning, his arms still wrapped tightly around you. For a moment, you’d wanted to believe that he truly cared about you, but then he’d shifted and you’d realised that he was reacting to you just like every other Alpha.

He’d woken up when you’d moved away.

Neither of you mentioned it, going about eating, and readying yourself for the last part of the drive. When you’d stopped to find gas in another small town, and Dean had killed a couple of rabbits, you’d almost been sick at the sight of fresh blood, feeling nothing but relief when he tucked them away in the trunk.

You hoped he never handed you a gun again.

Twenty minutes later, Dean pulled the car into a rest stop, where you dashed out to the ladies room. He walked around, stretching out his own limbs, and when you emerged a few minutes later, he was leaning casually against the Impala, and for a second, you imagined it wasn’t the apocalypse, and he was just a man waiting for his girlfriend.

But it was the apocalypse, and he was an Alpha, waiting for his property.

You didn’t speak when you climbed back into the car.

Dean turned up the stereo, not looking at you as he pulled the car out of the rest stop, carelessly mounting the curb as he sped out onto the freeway. You flinched at the harsh driving, and wondered if you’d managed to piss him off. But you kept your mouth shut, for fear of making his mood worse.

The light started to fail as he kept his foot steadily on the gas, crossing the border into Kansas. Abandoned and burnt out cars covered route 70, and he swerved to avoid them, all the while tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, humming to the music.

“You like classic rock?” he asked suddenly, making you jump out of your skin.

Chewing your bottom lip, you considered your reply, finally opening your mouth to answer him. “Um, I guess. My dad played a lot of it.”

The laughter he returned with was without humor, and he shook his head. “That doesn’t make me feel old at all.”

You looked down at your hands, squirming in your seat. The tape changed over, starting with Bon Jovi, a song you recognized and knew the words to. It had been one of your dad’s favorite bands, and apparently, Dean liked them too, as he started to sing along loudly.

“ _ I'm a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride, I'm wanted dead or alive _ ,” he sang, and you couldn’t help the little smile you gave at his out of tune hollering. His fist nudged your knee, and you looked over, seeing him smile. “Come on, everyone knows the words.”

“ _ Sometimes I sleep, sometimes it’s not for days _ .” You kept your voice quiet as you sang along with him, letting him drown you out, and you laughed as he played the drums on the steering wheel, throwing his head back as he gave it his all.

All too soon, the song ended and Dean turned the radio down, smiling sadly as he kept his eyes on the road. “Thanks.”

“For what?” you asked, frowning with curiosity.

“For giving me a normal moment. Sometimes I forget…” he trailed off, sniffling and shaking his head. “Never mind.”

You didn’t push the subject, returning your gaze to the scenery outside. Dean kept humming, and you leaned back, resting your head against the back of the seat, letting your eyes fall shut.

It only felt like a few moments, in that funny way time has of lapsing when you’re tired, and you opened your eyes again as the car rolled to a stop. Dean was getting out, apparently unaware that you were awake. Sitting up, taking in your surroundings, you saw a large concrete and brick building with no windows. The car was stopped outside a set of steps leading down to a thick looking metal door, and you frowned, wondering if this was his “bunker” he’d been talking about.

Slowly, you opened the door, stepping out and keeping your eyes on the building, following the structure all the way to the top, where stars shone above the roof. Dean was at the trunk, and as you shut the car door, he looked around the side of the car, blinking at you.

“We’re here. I was gonna let you sleep until I got the car into the garage.”

“How long was I out?” you asked, dragging your eyes away from the hulking structure.

“A few hours,” he replied, shrugging nonchalantly. He gathered up his duffel and the dead rabbits, before slamming the trunk shut and pointing to the door. “It should be open. No one comes out this far, and the building isn’t detectable.”

You didn’t ask what that meant, but followed his instruction, stepping down the stairs gingerly and approaching the door. It was as heavy as it looked, and it took a few moments for you to get it open. The hallway inside was dark, and you jumped in shock as Dean’s voice came from behind you.

“It’s safe,” he said, nudging you forward. You took a step inside, mostly to get away from the rabbit corpses swinging at his hip, and started down the next set of stairs. It opened up into a grand room, with a lit up table in the middle, and you kept moving until your hands clasped the metal railing, your jaw gaped at the impressiveness of the interior.

“This is…”

“Keep moving,” Dean barked, and you jumped, skittering down the stairs as he followed close behind. As you reached the bottom, you dodged out of his way, unsure of his mood once again. “Cas!”

There was no answer to his call, and he grunted in irritation, dumping his duffel bag on the lit up table before heading off along another corridor. You didn’t know whether to follow or stay put, and out of nervousness, you rubbed your thumbs together, shivering despite the warmth that seemed to fill the massive room.

Dean’s voice rang out again, and he stomped back into the room, minus the rabbits, a foul look on his face. “Idjit must be outside,” he sighed, before looking over at you like he’d only just realised you were there. “Home sweet home,” he muttered, throwing his arms wide. “You can go anywhere. Pick a room - just, not twenty-one, okay? That’s… that’s Sam’s…” He trailed off, a pained look crossing his face before his expression closed off entirely. “I’m gonna go find Castiel.”

You nodded, dropping your eyes to the floor, waiting until the door shut with a resounding bang upstairs. For a few moments, you stood in silence, unsure what to do with yourself in the strange surroundings. Stepping forward, you looked down at the lit up table, trailing your fingers over the large map, letting your fingers linger on the spot where your hometown had once been.

Raising your chin, you looked around the room, before taking small steps towards the corridor Dean had gone down. All of the lights were on, running down the length of the tiled hallway, and you kept a slow pace as you explored what was to be your new home. There was a large kitchen on your right, and it looked like someone had been preparing fresh vegetables on the table. You kept going, seeing more doors on your left. They were all numbered, but not in any particular order, and you saw the door to room eleven was open. Stopping, you peered in, seeing vintage and new weapons adorning the walls, and a pile of records next to an old deck on the sideboards opposite the door. The bed was made, and the lights were on, and you assumed that this must be Dean’s room.

Moving on, you passed room twenty-one, pausing for a split second. At least that was something you and Dean had in common - you’d apparently both lost your families. Sadness pinged in your chest like a tight string to your throat and you sighed, before continuing down the hall. Room fifteen’s door was open, and the inside was a mess - books and papers strewn everywhere, and strange writing covered the walls in various colored markers, some in crayon.

“That’s my room,” a cheery voice said from behind you, and you shrieked, turning to the sound with a hand on your chest, as if that would help calm your suddenly erratic heartbeat. “Hi,” the dark haired man grinned, waving at you.

“If people could stop sneaking up on me, that would be great,” you growled, leaning on the doorframe with your other hand.

“Sorry,” the man said meekly, ducking his head.

“You must be Castiel?” you guessed, and his smile returned, brighter than the sun. Stepping back out of his way, you gestured to his room. “I’ll, er, let you -”

“Room three is quite lovely,” he announced, his voice gravelly. “Dean said you should pick a room and I highly suggest room three. It’s central, equal distance between the bathroom and the kitchen, and it has a nice atmosphere.”

You blinked, unsure of his intentions. “O...kay.”

He chuckled, shaking his head before becoming suddenly morose, his startling blue eyes focused on you. “I can see why he was drawn to you. You are… glowing.” His words made you shift uncomfortably, and you stepped back further.

“Room three?” you asked, changing the subject.

Castiel nodded, the playfulness returning to him, and he moved past you into his room, flopping down to sit cross legged on the floor. You watched him for a second, before turning to find the room he’d suggested. It was across the hall, the golden number glittering in the lights from the hall, and you slowly approached, turning the handle to open the door.

The room was bare, except for a made bed and a small dresser, and you stepped inside, looking around. Like the other rooms, there were no windows, but you didn’t mind that. The main light switch was to your left and you flicked it, letting the light illuminate the room properly. It was definitely spacious, and you sighed, surveying your new home, glad that it was at least better than the cell you’d spent ten years in.

Footsteps made you look back out into the corridor, and you saw Dean approaching with the bag of clothes you’d stolen from the mall. He stopped in the doorway, handing you the bag silently, his eyes darting around the room. “You picked then?”

“Castiel suggested it,” you affirmed, giving him a half smile as you looked down at the bag. Dean nodded, rolling his shoulders.

“Sorry about him, he’s…”

“Odd. You said. I’m sure I’ll get used to it.”

Dean levelled you with a look that you missed, too busy avoiding his gaze. “This is your home now, Y/N. Do what you want with the room. It’s yours. You come and go as you want.”

“But not outside the bunker, right?”

He shook his head. “You can go outside. We’re surrounded by woodlands for twenty miles. Castiel has a garden… he likes to grow things. There’s a little plot for vegetables and things, if you wanna help out. I don’t know if you know how to cook or anything -”

“I don’t,” you interjected, before looking up at him. “But I can learn.”

The smile he gave was thin, and didn’t last more than three seconds, but it was there and you let it comfort you a little. “I’ll let you get settled in. It’s late, and tomorrow, I’ll give you the grand tour.” He looked over at what was to be your bed, sighing, and you wondered if maybe he’d wanted you in his room. After all, you were an Omega, and he was the Alpha - why else would he have bought you?

A few seconds ticked by, and he sucked in a breath, plastering a fake smile on his face.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he muttered, before backing away and turning. You watched him go, seeing his shoulders slump as he entered his room and shut the door behind him with a defining click of the lock.

You looked back to your new room, the future before you. There was no way of knowing what Dean wanted from you, but at least for now, you were safe.


	7. Part Seven

It was nearing dawn when Dean realized he wasn’t getting any sleep. He’d tossed and turned for hours, almost doing a complete 360 in the bed until he gave up. Not being one to read a book when he was tired, he climbed out of bed, wandering down to the kitchen, loitering in the doorway. It wasn’t strange to feel so lost in his own home, but the sudden presence of Y/N in his life has brought to it a new kilter he wasn’t sure how to deal with.

Her scent was already everywhere, and he was unable to stop himself from inhaling it deeply, committing it to memory. Her door was open, and he drifted from the kitchen down the corridor, stopping at the entryway to her room. She was asleep, wrapped up in the thick covers on the bed, curled almost horizontally across the mattress.

Dean heard Castiel approach before the other man spoke, and he wondered how it looked with him just standing there, watching her sleep.

“You told me you had no desire for an Omega, in this world or any other.” There was no judgement in Cas’ voice - there never was. For once, it appeared he had clarity, which was becoming rarer and rarer these days.

“I don’t,” Dean defended, folding his arms over his broad chest, not taking his eyes off of her. “This was… unintentional. But I couldn’t leave her there.”

“She was one of several Omegas, wasn’t she?” Cas asked, and Dean nodded. “Then what made her special compared to the others? Were they worthy of that fate, of what she would have faced had you not come along?”

The hunter scowled, finally looking at his oldest friend. “Of course not. I wouldn’t… you know I don’t agree with Omega trade, Cas.”

“Do I need to repeat my question?”

Dean sighed heavily, shaking his head. “I don’t know why. Forrest convinced me to attend that stupid auction, and I only did it to keep him sweet. Supplies, connections, you know the drill. Then she was there, and -” he groaned. “Fuck, she smelled so sweet, even from across the room. She wasn’t for sale, she was looking after another Omega. She practically attacked an Alpha who threatened her. I’ve never seen someone so unbroken by this world.”

“You’re not broken,” Castiel said, frowning. “Maybe a little cracked -”

“You’re funny,” Dean retorted, scowling. “You know what I mean.”

“She is very pure,” the angel murmured, his eyes going beyond Dean to the sleeping Omega on her bed. “I can see it in her soul, in her eyes - she has a fighting spirit I’ve only seen a handful of times in my long life.” Blue eyes focused on Dean, and he shifted a little under the intense scrutiny. “The first time I saw it was when I dragged you from hell.”

Silence fell between the two men, awkward and tense, before Dean cleared his throat. “I should…”

“She’s meant to be yours, Dean. She was put in your path for a reason.”

“I don’t need a mate, Castiel,” Dean said, firmly, holding one hand up to stop Cas from saying anything else. “I don’t believe in that shit, and I’m not putting anyone else in danger.”

“Haven’t you already done that by taking her from where she was?”

“No. She stays in the bunker. She helps you out.”

The angel watched him for a second, before shaking his head. Slowly, he drifted back towards his room, shutting the door forcefully, but not loudly enough to wake Y/N. Dean sighed again, looking over his shoulder at the sleeping woman for a few seconds, before he reached out and pulled her door shut.

“What the fuck am I doing?” he asked himself, retreating to his room. He wasn’t going to bother trying to sleep again.

*****

With no alarms, and no hunt, Dean let Y/N sleep in. Castiel flitted about the bunker like he normally did, muttering to himself and stealing books from the library. Once he’d gone outside to the garden, communing with whichever insect was the flavor of the week, Dean took himself off to the garage, intent on cleaning the Impala after her long trip.

He wasn’t sure what the time was when the garage door creaked open, Y/N appearing cautiously in the hallway outside. Dean looked up from where his arms were in the bucket of soapy water, raising an eyebrow in her direction.

“Good morning,” he greeted, before returning to what he was doing.

“Hi,” she replied, rubbing her upper arm and stepping down the single step into the garage area. Her eyes darted everywhere as she took in the room, and the amount of cars and bikes that were still sat there in storage. “I couldn’t find anyone. This place is huge.”

“It takes some getting used to,” he quipped, scrubbing at Baby’s rims. “I can draw you a map if you like.”

She giggled, and Dean’s head snapped up at the sound, a little twitch pulling at his lips. Her eyes were brighter than he’d seen them before, and he concluded that a good night’s sleep had done her the world of good. 

“You take a shower or anything yet?”

A shake of her head had him frowning. “I didn’t want to… “

“This is your home, Y/N. You can go where you want, do what you want -” She nodded, but he wasn’t sure she thoroughly believed him. Dropping the sponge into the bucket, he wiped at his forehead with the back of his wet hand, sighing. “Come on. I’m gonna give you the tour. I’ve got some toiletries lying around somewhere, so you can shower.”

“I don’t want to be a bother,” she squeaked, stepping backwards away from him with her eyes downcast, and he found himself with anger swelling in his chest at her continued fear of him. What did he have to do to convince her that he wasn’t a threat?

“You’re not,” he said, his teeth grinding together as he tried to get a grip on his irritation. He knew it wasn’t her fault, but the combination of her imprisonment and his solitude all these years was a clash. “Come on.” Dean pushed past her, and she followed with her head bowed. Internally, he wanted to kick himself, but at the same time as wanting her to not be afraid, he knew he couldn’t get attached or involved.

God, he was a mess. This was a mess.

“Bathroom is in here,” he mumbled, opening the door to the large bathroom with the tub on one side and shower cubicles on the other. She didn’t say a word, barely looking into the room, but he ignored it, moving on. “You know where the kitchen is. Obviously there’s the bedrooms. Most of them are empty.” He kept walking, hearing her lighter footsteps behind him as he headed into the library. “This is the library. Plenty of books. Tolkien to demon lore. Whatever you want. I’ve got some old DVDs if you wanna watch anything - I guess you haven’t seen a movie in a while, huh?”

Y/N shook her head. “What sort of movies do you have?”

“A lot of Westerns,” he admitted, with a wry smile. “But I’ve got some others I’ve picked up over the years. And if there’s anything else you want, I can try and find it.” He paused, looking down at the floor for a moment. “There’s some box sets in Sam’s room. He liked Game Of Thrones.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t old enough to watch it according to my parents,” she commented, and he chuckled under his breath.

“There you go, making me feel old again.” He gestured to the next corridor, and she went ahead, stopping when she walked into the main room that she’d first seen as they’d arrived back. “This is the war room. The name came with it. This map, on occasion, lets me know if there’s anything big going on in the world. Usually a concentration of supernatural energy.”

“F-for the monsters?”

He nodded. “Yeah,” he replied quietly. “But you don’t have to get involved with that. I don’t… what I do is dangerous.” She didn’t say anything, and Dean was grateful for that.

Eventually, he’d shown her everywhere in the bunker, including the dungeons, not wanting her to find them accidentally and be frightened of the room with the chains and pentagrams all over it. By the time they returned upstairs, Cas was inside, covered in mud and grinning from ear to ear. He held up a basket, with eggs inside, and Y/N looked confused at the presentation.

“The chickens laid again,” he announced, and Dean groaned. “It’s wonderful, isn’t it? Do you like eggs?” The question was aimed at Y/N, who stammered and failed to reply, prompting Dean to come to her rescue.

“Why don’t you head down to the bathroom and start the shower; it takes a few minutes to get warm enough. I’ll get you a towel and some toiletries.”

“How do you have running water and electricity?” she asked, frowning. “I’ve been trying to figure it out but -”

Dean smiled. “Well, when you do, let me know. This entire place is full of mysteries, and that’s one gift horse I ain’t lookin’ in the mouth.” He jerked his head towards the corridor where the bathroom lay. “Go on, I’ll be there in a moment.”

Y/N nodded, before walking off, out of earshot. Dean turned to Castiel, who was smiling like an idiot, turning the eggs in the basket.

“I thought we could make omelettes. Celebrate our new housemate.”

“You’re a few eggs short of a basket, Cas,” Dean drawled, fixing his friend with a glare.

Cas looked in the basket, his forehead wrinkling in confusion. “No, these are definitely all the eggs that were in the henhouse, Dean.” His eyes darted back up to the other man, who was now smirking. “You’re mocking me.”

“Yeah,” Dean admitted. “But do me a favor and tone down the crazy, yeah? She’s freaked out enough without -” he gestured to the angel and his muddy shirt and pants. Even after all the years they’d been sharing the same living space, Dean still wasn’t sure if he owned a limitless supply of white shirts and dress pants, or whether he used the remainder of his angel mojo to clean up every day. “All of that.”

“She doesn’t know her place anymore, Dean,” Cas chided, although his focus had been drawn somewhere else in the room. “Where she was, she knew her place, her duties, what she had to do to survive. You’ve taken her from that and put her into an uncertain environment. Strange surroundings and an Alpha she doesn’t know, with a connection that’s confusing her.” His eyes returned to Dean, who was standing frozen to the spot, his face aghast at the truth of Cas’ words. “Do you think she’d like mushrooms with her omelette?”

Dean blinked, then shook his head. “I… I don’t know. I gotta -” Cas disappeared, and the hunter groaned. “Fuckin’ annoyin’ when he does that,” he grumbled, before following Y/N’s path, stopping at Sam’s room. He didn’t hesitate to open the door and walk in - he usually came in here once or twice a month to keep it clean. It was probably unhealthy the way he’d kept it as a shrine to his brother, down to the book on the bedside table that still had the bookmark at the page Sam had last read. The copy of “Magician’s End” by Raymond E Feist still looked brand new - it was the last in a series of books that Sam had been reading, but he’d never gotten to finish it.

Bypassing the bed, Dean went to his brother’s dresser, picking up the fruity shampoo that Sam had used religiously. He’d always teased him about his hair, but Dean hoped that somewhere, Sam was happy the stuff would get a use again.

“It’s girly shampoo anyway, Sammy,” Dean said, the hint of a smile on his lips as he picked up the conditioner to go with it, and ducked out, closing the door behind him again. Walking into the bathroom, he found Y/N staring at the spray, almost hypnotized by it. “Everything okay?” he asked, and she jumped, for the millionth time since he’d met her. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, I was just… a bit lost in my own thoughts I guess.” She offered him a hesitant smile, taking the shampoo he held out. He could tell there was a question on her lips, probably asking where he’d gotten it from, but she didn’t vocalize it, and for that, he was thankful. Turning away from her, he headed over to the bathroom cupboard, picking out a couple of towels for her.

“Take all the time you need. Hot water doesn’t run out, and the pressure is pretty awesome. Small miracle in the apocalypse.”

“I can’t remember the last time I had a shower,” she whispered, her eyes back on the water. “We only had cold baths where… where I was.” A shiver visibly shook her frame, and Dean bit his lip, fighting the urge to wrap his arms around her, to show her that everything was going to be okay.

But it was too soon for that.

“I’ll leave you to it,” he muttered, backing out of the room, closing the door to allow her some privacy. Placing his palm against the wood, his imagination provided him with the thought of her undressing, climbing under the spray, water cascading over her smooth, naked flesh -

The lock on the door clicked, snapping him back to the hallway, and he looked down at the swollen bulge of his fly. He wasn’t about to deny the physical effect she was having on him, but to confront her with that would just be proving what she believed to be true - that she was only here for one reason.

No, he’d take care of that problem himself, and keep his dangerous thoughts away from her.


	8. Part Eight

The bunker settled into somewhat of a routine over the next few days. Y/N was still quiet and withdrawn, but Dean noticed her reading a lot of books from the library, and spending a good amount of time outside. He’d decided to take a break from hunting while she was settling in, focusing his attention on fixing a few minor problems with Baby and clearing out some of the junk he’d accumulated over the years.

On the fourth day, he woke late, actually having slept without problems or severe dreams for the first time in ten years that he could remember. When he emerged from his room, he saw Y/N’s door open, but she was nowhere to be found. The library and kitchen were empty, and Cas was alone in his room with his books.

Thunder rumbled through the walls, making Dean look upwards as he stood in the doorway to Cas’ room, and the angel pointed upwards. “She’s dancing,” he commented, and Dean frowned. “Barefoot and fancy free.” The hunter looked at his friend blankly and Castiel sighed. “She’s outside, Dean.”

“Oh right. I thought you were being cryptic.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I thought I was always straightforward.”

Dean paused, unsure if the angel was joking or not, and when Cas cracked a grin like a maniac, he shook his head and walked away. He headed through the war room, up to the bunker door, finding it open and Y/N’s boots and socks neatly left in the shelter of the doorway. The rain was coming down heavily as he looked outside, seeing lightning flash across the dark afternoon sky.

As he watched, laughter filtered through the sound of pouring rain, and he stepped out into it, his shirt getting soaked through almost instantly. Following the sound, he saw her, on the patch of grass out in the open, arms spread and feet bare. Her head was thrown back, her eyes shut and mouth set in an expression of pure joy.

Dean was mesmerised for a moment, keeping his eyes on her as she spun slowly in a circle, obviously enjoying the weather. She’d probably catch cold, but she looked so carefree for a moment, that he didn’t want to disturb it.

She stopped spinning, opening her eyes and fixing them on him. The smile on her face dimmed a little, hair falling in her eyes with the weight of the rain. He didn’t say anything; he didn’t want to spook her.

“I haven’t felt the rain since I was sixteen,” she explained, shrugging her shoulders and cradling her hands together in front of her body. Her eyes moved away from him, down to the wet ground, and he nodded.

“I’ll grab you a towel and make a hot drink,” he said, trying to convey through his tone that he didn’t mind. He turned away, heading back indoors, trailing water along the floor as he went. Stripping off his wet shirt, he grabbed a fresh one from his room, picking up a couple of towels from his closet. Walking into the kitchen, he dropped the towels onto the table, before filling up the old fashioned kettle and placing it on the stove to boil.

A few moments later, Y/N walked in, holding her boots in one hand. She was soaked through to the bone, but there was a look in her eyes that was new, something he’d not seen in her before.

“You okay?” he asked, and she nodded, smiling, although her teeth had started to chatter. He chuckled, taking her boots and dropping them on the bench, swiping a towel to wrap around her shoulders. Rubbing the dry fabric against her wet shirt, he didn’t realize just how close he was to her until his body started to respond in the way it always did, and he cleared his throat, gently moving away to focus his attention on the boiling water. “Why don’t you go and get some dry clothes on?”

“Okay,” she whispered, hugging the towel to herself, the gleam in her eyes fading. She padded out of the room, and Dean sighed heavily. He willed himself to gain control again, rifling through the cupboards for the cocoa powder to distract himself. Finding it, he grimaced at the date, but shrugged, figuring it wouldn’t kill either of them.

Y/N returned a few moments later, rubbing the towel over her wet hair. She’d changed into sweats and a shirt, without a bra and he had to quell the moan that rose in his chest. Forcing a smile onto his face, he made the drinks and placed one of the full mugs in front of her as she slid onto the bench. Sitting the opposite side, they remained silent for a few moments as they both warmed up.

“You must think I’m silly,” she quietly announced, looking into her mug like the brown liquid would give her the secrets to the universe and everything in between.

Dean shook his head. “You spent ten years locked away from the world. Nothin’ silly about wanting to experience it,” he replied, running his thumb along the rim of the mug. “Sorry there’s no marshmallows or cream or anything. Kinda hard to come by.”

She gave him the tiniest of laughs, and he sat a little straighter, feeling it warm a place he’d not touched in years. “I never said thank you.”

He raised his eyebrows, looking over at her, seeing her eyes clearly focused on him for longer than a few seconds. A shaky breath left his lips as he tilted his head in confusion. “What for?”

“All of this,” she whispered. “I guess… I’m not saying I’m completely comfortable, this is all still pretty new but… for an Alpha you’re not so bad.” It was the closest thing to a compliment she’d given him since they’d met, and he took it like a bird desperate for breadcrumbs. Emotion choked up his throat, and he looked down at his drink, breaking the eye contact.

“You’re welcome,” he whispered.

*****

The storm cleared as the day wore on, and Dean went about cleaning out room seven, like he’d been intending to do for months. Y/N had picked a new selection of books and was devouring them whilst tucked into the ratty old sofa he’d put in the library. Cas was in the garden, tending to his plants after the heavy downfall.

Eventually, it grew late, and Dean continued to work. Y/N retired to bed, leaving her door open like she always did. He’d assumed it was because she’d spent so long locked away that now she could leave the door open, she did. It wasn’t something he was about to berate her for, just like the dancing in the rain earlier.

Midnight came and went, and Dean realised just how tired he was getting from lugging boxes out. He had a good amount of crap to burn, which would make for another day of entertainment, and he stretched his limbs, before locking the room up.

Castiel was snoring again, and Dean shut his door quickly, blocking the noise out. As he did, he heard a soft whimpering, and frowned as he turned to Y/N’s door. She was tossing and turning in her bed, her face contorted with terror, and the second she screamed, he was there at her side, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her awake.

“Y/N,” he called, his fingers digging into her bare skin. “Wake up, sweetheart, come on -” she jolted upright with a piercing cry, her eyes wet and wide, looking at him with fear like he’d never seen on another person. “Hey, it wasn’t real,” he soothed. “Just a nightmare.”

He wasn’t expecting her to fling herself into his arms, sobbing in earnest. Curling his arms around her, he held her close, inhaling her scent and frowning when he found that to be riddled with fright too.

“I killed him. There was so much blood -” she trailed off, burying her face in his shirt and Dean felt tears soaking through the material. “I didn’t mean to.” Her words were muffled, and he shushed her, rocking back and forth as he held her against his chest.

Dean wasn’t sure if she was talking about the incident at the mall or something else, but either way, it had freaked her out. If this was the first nightmare she’d had, then she was coping better than he had the first time he’d killed someone. But he suspected that wasn’t the case.

Moments ticked by, and he let her cry everything out, keeping them both moving, whispering soothing phrases and feeling pretty stupid for it. He’d never been brilliant at comforting people - Sam was the humanitarian out of the two of them and since the world ended, Dean hadn’t found much use for pussyfooting around other people.

This was different on a whole other level.

The sobbing faded as she composed herself, pushing away from him smoothly, looking up at him with red rimmed and sore looking eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Dean soothed, reaching up to cup her cheek, grazing his thumb over the tears lingering on her skin. “I’ve been there.”

“I just… I can’t get it out of my head. The taste of blood in my mouth and…”

“From the mall?”

“I’ve never killed anyone,” she whispered. “And I ripped his throat out.”

Dean shook his head. “He would have done far worse to you, given the chance, Y/N. You did the right thing.”

“He was still a person.”

“People like that don’t deserve the chances they get.”

She fell silent for a second, contemplating him, and he held her gaze, somehow enjoying this moment, with her not glancing away at every opportunity. “Have you killed people?”

His chest tightened, and he hesitated, unsure how to answer without frightening her away again. Finally, he sighed, dropping his hand back into his own lap, abandoning both her touch and her gaze. “No one that didn’t deserve it,” he answered honestly.

There was silence as he stared at his hands. She would definitely be scared of him now, and would probably draw further away. It was the one thing Dean was truly good at - losing people and driving them from his life.

Then her smaller fingers slid into his, curling around his big hands and he felt the warmth in her touch. Dean lifted his head, staring at her in wonder of the fact that she wasn’t running away from him. Y/N smiled, squeezing his fingers.

“Would you stay? I feel like the nightmare won’t come back if you’re here.”

It was a quiet admission, but the biggest step she’d taken so far, and Dean smiled, nodding at her. He climbed into her bed, allowing her to curl into the crook of his arm, her head resting on his chest. Her scent surrounded him, and he closed his eyes, feeling her relax against his body, all the tension from her nightmare draining away.

Dean’s smile didn’t fade, even as sleep started to take hold of him.

Maybe they could figure this out.


	9. Part Nine

The nightmares didn’t go away; you weren’t fool enough to imagine they would with such a simple action. But they were easier to bear. Dean never came to bed with you, and you stopped waking from the violence and trauma you relived, usually waking up with his arms wrapped around you. It became obvious that he never slept more than a few hours.

It was on more than one occasion that you found him out cold in the front seat of his car where it was parked in the garage, although you never brought it up to him. Whenever he emerged, hair all sleep tousled and eyes bleary, you feigned ignorance to the situation, delving back into whatever you were occupying yourself with.

And for the most part, that was whatever you could lay your hands on in the bunker. Reading took up the majority of your time, and you’d worked your way through classic literature, as well as reading up on the various demonic tomes that were carefully alphabetized and more than a little dusty. Dean hadn’t told you much about his work, about the monsters he hunted, but through the ancient words and scribbled diaries, you discovered much of it by yourself.

It wasn’t a stretch to say that some of your nightmares came with black eyes and snarling teeth now.

When you weren’t reading, you were outside, helping Castiel with his little garden. Frequently, he took walks in the woods surrounding the bunker, where it was quiet, and you’d started to join him. Sometimes, he was silent, contemplative and other times… well, other times you couldn’t shut him up. Whatever had happened to Cas, it had given him the temperament of a small child, and he had minimal brain to mouth filter available. Trees, birds - literally everything fascinated him.

He seemed to appreciate your company on these long walks, and often took to holding your hand. When you’d asked why, he’d replied that he hadn’t been human for very long, in the grand scheme of things, and in that time, he missed being close with other people. He didn’t voice it, but you’d seen the way Dean treated him - like a patient, or a ward, a burden that he didn’t really want to interact with. Dean Winchester was a closed off wall, and he didn’t let anyone in, even you. And so, you became Castiel’s confident, his friend; pretty much the first one he’d had in ten years.

The good, and slightly bad, thing about this was that he would tell you anything you asked. By this method, you came by most of Dean’s history, as the Alpha was unlikely to give it up himself. You learned about his upbringing with his father, the loss of his mother, and his life with his brother as hunters. Cas told it like a fairy tale, rambling on until you stopped him, telling you everything about the brothers, their fight, the apocalypse… it was like a story out of a movie, and some of it you didn’t quite believe.

You’d been living at the bunker for three weeks when you asked a question that Castiel refused to answer. It was a sunny day, nearly the end of February, and after lunch, you and the angel had started walking through the woods, along the path you usually took. Turning to him, you sucked in a breath, preparing yourself for whatever answer he had to give.

“How did Sam die?”

Cas stopped dead, and you didn’t for a few paces, before swiveling on the spot to face him. His blue eyes looked at you, almost as if they were searching your face for something, and you waited, patiently. Pain crossed his face, and he dropped his gaze to the floor, shaking his head.

“You should ask Dean.”

You frowned, folding your arms over your chest. “Was it an accident?”

“I can’t…” Cas’ voice was choked and he backed up a few steps. “We should go back to the bunker.”

“Cas, I only -”

He disappeared, leaving you alone in the woods, and you sighed, remaining rooted to the spot. You didn’t know why he’d gotten upset, but it only made you more curious about the question. Forcing yourself to move, you headed back along the path, returning to the bunker.

Dean was outside, bent over the trunk of his car, but you couldn’t see what he was doing. He heard your approach, your footsteps crunching in the leaves.

“Hey,” he greeted, standing straight, wiping his hands off with a rag. “Everything okay? Where’s Cas?”

You shrugged, walking up to the car and stopping beside him, your eyes dropping to the array of weapons in the trunk. It didn’t freak you out as much as it had when you’d first seen them, but there was still an edge of danger to the Alpha in front of you. “I think I upset him,” you said, quietly. “He did that disappearing thing.”

“Oh,” Dean said, not looking at you as he shut the hidden compartment. “He gets upset easily, you shouldn’t take it to heart.”

“What was he like before?” you asked, and Dean sighed. “I know he wasn’t always -”

“Crazy?” Dean filled in for you, and you nodded, unwilling to use the word yourself. It felt crass and not applicable to Castiel really, who seemed more lost in himself than anything. “Since I found him after the world started going to hell.” He stared at you for a moment, then slammed the trunk shut, making you jump. “You wanna go for a drive?” he asked, and you blinked, surprised by the offer.

“Er, yeah. Sure.”

He smiled, walking past you to the driver side, climbing in and waiting for you. You quickly joined him, sliding into the passenger seat and shutting your door, before buckling up. Dean started the car, ambling it slowly down the dirt path towards the main road.

For long moment, the drive was silent, and you watched the road ahead, wondering if he had an ulterior motive to this. When he opened his mouth, you realized he did.

“There’s only one thing I regret in all this, y’know,” Dean started, keeping his eyes on the tarmac as he guided the Impala along. “And that’s the way it ended. We were trying to do something good. Something to help everyone. I’m still not sure exactly what happened, but I can tell you what I know.”

“What do you mean?”

He glanced at you, his jaw tight and eyes wet with emotion. “The world ending. It was our fault.”

You didn’t reply, but watched his face as he drove, seeing the little tick in his cheek, knowing he was grinding his teeth together out of frustration - one of the many habits you’d learned that he had.

And then it all came out. He told you about the trials, how he and his brother had tried to close the gates of hell, to lock all the demons away. It had worked, but at a price, and Sam was almost dead.

“I got him to a hospital. They kept him alive, and I tried… I almost let an angel possess him to save his life. But something went wrong. The angels falling, it triggered something.”

“I remember that night. It was two months before. They said it was a meteor shower…” you trailed off, looking down at your hands. “It was angels falling?”

“From heaven. Metatron, some douchebag angel with a God complex, he stole Castiel’s grace and expelled everyone. But something he did, it went wrong. Without the balance, with the demons locked away, souls couldn’t go where they were supposed to be. People started dying, and the horsemen came back.”

“The horsemen?”

“The sickness? Pestilence. The war in Korea? War. People dying for weird and crazy reasons? Famine.” Dean sighed, flexing his fingers on the wheel. “Whatever we did, it gave them the power to take over, but eventually, there was nothing left. The angels died because Metatron severed their connection to heaven. Castiel stole grace to keep himself alive, and when I found his real grace, what was left of it, he was too far gone. His head hasn’t been right since.”

You were silent for a few moments, and Dean allowed you to take it in, not speaking as he turned into Lebanon’s main street.

“You’re taking this better than I expected.”

A smile tugged at your lips. “I’ve been reading.”

“So I noticed,” he replied, grinning. “You’re not freaked out?”

You shrugged. “I guess, with the world ending… takes a bit more than that to freak me out.” You paused, watching the dilapidated buildings pass by, before looking back to him. “You said… you said you almost let an angel possess Sam.”

Dean nodded, exhaling softly and closing his eyes for the briefest of seconds, before he pulled the car into the parking lot of the old Walmart. He stopped the engine, remaining in his seat, and you waited, not pushing him for an answer.

“Sam was dying. The trials had taken everything he had, and he was… he was slipping. This angel, Ezekiel, he offered to possess him - heal him from the inside. And I almost went through with it. Then… these other angels attacked. I barricaded us inside Sam’s room, while the hospital was going nuts around us.” He took a breath, and you saw how hard it was for him to relive the memory. “Sam died, while we were fighting. I could hear his heart… on the monitor. It was so loud, and then it was just a line and -” he cut off, pressing his hand to his forehead, and you hesitated, unsure whether to try and comfort him or leave him be for a second.

“You tried to save him,” you whispered. “You tried.”

“I didn’t try hard enough,” he replied, his voice hoarse. “Since I was four years old, Sam was my everything. My baby brother, my friend, family - as long as we were together, there wasn’t anything we couldn’t face down. I thought we’d survive everything, that we’d see out the end together. And I failed him.”

You shook your head, frowning as you reached out to touch your hand to Dean’s shoulder. He didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge the touch. “I don’t think you failed him,” you said, keeping your voice low. Dean’s shoulders shook with unshed tears, and he looked up, red eyes focusing on you. “I might not have known you very long, but I can see how hard you fight. The things you’ve done, the things you do… you’re trying to make the world better even after it’s ended.” You swallowed, locking your eyes on his, holding his gaze, the first time you managed to since he’d taken you away from Washington. Heat flourished under your hand, spreading through your veins, the connection between you almost palpable in the thick air inside the car. “You saved me.”

He didn’t move, didn’t take his eyes from you, and for a moment, you wanted to lean in, to give him the comfort he hadn’t had in so long, like he’d been giving you in the small hours of the night.

The connection seemed to snap when he moved away, tearing his shoulder away from your palm. “It still won’t bring Sam back,” he said, yanking the keys from the ignition harshly, before opening the door and climbing out. You felt like you’d been slapped, and you remained in your seat for a second, before following him out of the car.

“Dean -”

“Chick flick is over. You know the truth, do whatever you want with it.” His words were like knives to your soul, and you flinched as you watched him open the trunk. You realised the truth for what it really was - Dean had let his walls crumble, opened up his emotions, and let you in, and in a split second, he was regretting it. There was no doubt this man was broken, but something inside you was determined to fix him.

Dean held out a gun, and you stared at it fearfully, remembering what had happened the last time he’d handed you a weapon. He waited a tick, before taking it back with a “tssk” noise, tossing it into the trunk carelessly. 

“Fine,” he spat. “We’re going for supplies. Get what you want and meet me back here. Thirty minutes.”

You stared at him with wide eyes, but he ignored you, shutting the trunk and stomping off towards the big double doors of the store. They were half blocked, but he made quick work of kicking the wooden panels in to gain access.

And just like that, you were stood alone, in the middle of a dead town.

Turning on your heel, you followed after, grim determination on your face. Dean had given up hope, but he’d given you something to fight for. Ten years of imprisonment, of danger, threat and being treated like a possession had moulded you from what you’d been before.

Dean needed to realize that the world might have ended, but there was still life to be had.


	10. Part Ten

The sky was getting dark as Dean returned to the car, his arms laden with the few supplies he’d managed to find in the store. You had found plenty of clothes to keep you going, and a few non-perishable food items, as well as a bottle of girly looking liquor. Dean eyed it on the backseat, in amongst your other findings, raising an eyebrow in your direction.

“World ended before I was legally old enough to drink. Thought I’d start slow,” you explained, shrugging. He made a noise of amusement, before packing his things into the trunk and getting into the car, waiting for you. You sucked in a breath, ready for the tension in the front seat as you climbed in.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” he mumbled, starting the engine at the same time, almost drowning his own words out. You nodded, not verbally acknowledging him. Leaning forward, you turned the stereo on, tapping your fingers along to Metallica. Dean frowned, then shrugged, not speaking for the rest of the way back to the bunker.

When you returned, Cas was in his garden, and you quickly took your things inside to your room, before ducking past Dean and running outside. Cas didn’t look up as you came to a stop beside him, continuing with his weeding of the patch where the cauliflower was growing.

“I’m sorry I upset you,” you whispered, bending down, extending the metaphorical olive branch. He didn’t speak, and you sighed, reaching out to take his elbow. “Cas?”

“Yes, Y/N?”

“We’re friends right?”

He paused, raising his eyes to yours, before a smile crossed his features. “Of course we are. Why wouldn’t we be?” Your heart thumped with relief, and Cas leaned forward, dragging you into a hug. “The chickens are laying again. We need to collect the eggs. Will you help me?”

You nodded, standing as he did, following him across the garden to the chicken coop. It was well fortified against any hungry wild animals in the wood, and the chickens pecked and chirped as you opened up their house, lifting out their eggs and passing them to Cas.

Behind you, hidden in the shadows of the bunker, Dean watched, his eyes focused on you as you smiled with Cas and went about the work. He slipped inside before you could see him.

*****

Dean didn’t come to you that night, but you didn’t sleep anyway. The door was open, liked you preferred it now, and you could hear Cas singing away to himself for hours, before he finally fell silent. You weren’t sure if he’d gone to sleep, or even angels even slept, but the soft click of his door signified that he was done for the night. You laid still, propped up on your pillows, alternating between watching the ceiling and looking out of the door to the tiled corridor.

At around one in the morning, Dean’s footsteps fell along the corridor, and you heard him go into his room. His door shut, and you sighed, knowing you’d wake up alone. It was a little bewildering how quickly you’d become accustomed to having him there with you, and you felt a little disheartened by the way he’d shut off earlier in the day.

You sighed, turning onto your side, closing your eyes in an attempt to sleep.

Not even five minutes later, you heard a call, and a shadow passed by your door, making you sit up abruptly. Listening intently, you heard the voice again, and frowned.

“Kevin, did you borrow my shampoo again?”

Slipping from the bed, you padded across the carpeted floor with bare feet, stopping at your door to look out into the corridor. At the very far end, where the hallway led into the library, you saw a male figure had disappeared. He was dark haired, shorter than Dean by a large margin, and you frowned, stepping out into the corridor to follow him.

When you reached the library, you stopped, reaching out to flick the lights on. The room, illuminated, showed no one other than yourself, making you rock back on your heels in confusion.

“What are you doing?”

Cas’ voice made you jump, and you shrieked, turning to face him with one hand raised in a fist. A split second later, Dean’s door crashed open, and he appeared behind the angel, his gun in his hand.

“You scared me!” you exclaimed, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“Why were you walking around?” Cas pressed, his forehead creased in an expression of concern.

“I - I heard a voice,” you whispered, avoiding both his and Dean’s gaze. The taller man lowered his gun, tucking it into the back of his jeans. “Sorry, I was probably imagining things. I thought… I thought I saw a man walk in here, but -” You gestured to the empty room. “Obviously I was imagining it.”

Dean pushed passed Castiel, who remained on the spot, his blue eyes watching you curiously. “You saw someone?”

You nodded, your eyes following Dean as he walked around the room. “Did it get cold?” Dean asked, and you shook your head. “No flickering lights?”

“No. Everything was off when I came in here.”

He hummed under his breath, before shrugging. “I’ll do an EMF sweep but we haven’t had a ghost in here in years. Always worth checking. What did the guy look like?”

“I only saw him from the back. He was about yay high, black hair. Someone shouted about Kevin borrowing their shampoo and -” You stopped as the colour drained from Dean’s face, and you looked between him and Cas. “What?”

“K-Kevin?” Dean whispered, and you nodded to affirm it. “You’re sure. The voice said Kevin?”

“I’m positive. Why?”

Dean’s eyes flicked to Cas, who lifted his shoulders in a shrug and wandered off, presumably back to his room. You frowned, hugging yourself a little tighter, as Dean sighed heavily. “I’ll check it out. I… you should go to bed.”

“Who’s Kevin, Dean?”

He looked at you pointedly, and you felt the wall go back up around him. With no answer coming from his direction, you threw your hands up in frustration and stomped back to your room, slamming the door shut on the corridor.

*****

When you awoke from a pitiful amount of rest the next morning, you felt like death. Your skin was covered with a thin layer of clammy, cold sweat and you immediately wanted to roll over and vomit. Within a few seconds, you’d sussed the problem and groaned in irritation.

It was early, but then you’d never really kept track of it. The heats just happened, and you dealt with it. But this was your first away from the compound; more importantly, it was your first within the reach of an Alpha without restraint.

Stumbling from your room, you immediately headed to the bathroom, locking yourself in and running the shower. The hot water was a balm on your sore back and belly, but you knew it was a brief reprieve. Washing away the scent would only work for so long - there was no hiding this from anyone.

As it turned out, you didn’t need to.

Dean was gone. He’d packed up in the early hours and left, on a hunt, or so he’d said in his curt note. You found it on the counter in the kitchen, pinned down with a mug that had seen better days. It was a small relief that he wasn’t there, because you didn’t know how he was going to react to you being in heat around him.

Castiel was outside, and it was lunchtime before he came in. He found you on the couch in the library, curled up under the covers from your bed, watching one of the movies you’d found amongst the books. It was one of the Lord of the Rings films, and you remembered watching them when you were a kid, so it gave you some small measure of comfort.

“You’re in heat,” Cas said bluntly, dropping to sit cross-legged next you. You nodded, whimpering a little. “I am sorry. I understand that they can cause some discomfort.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” you quipped and he stuck his bottom lip out in a pout.

“I can heal wounds, but this is a natural occurrence. I’m afraid I cannot help.”

“I didn’t expect you to,” you replied, smiling gently at him. “Why don’t you watch the movie with me? Looks like we’re on our own for a couple of days.”

The angel nodded, smiling and scooting back to rest against the couch, fixing his eyes on the television. Neither of you spoke for a moment, watching the events unfold on the television. Frodo and Sam had just met Gollum, and were journeying to the black gates of Mordor.

“Dean isn’t angry with you,” Cas announced, suddenly. “Kevin was someone we knew. Someone dear to him, and myself. He was simply sad to be reminded.” He didn’t look at you as he spoke. “I have been trying to figure out why you would be perceiving these visions.”

You sighed. “I haven’t. I’m just putting it down to the weirdness that my life has become. If I think about it anymore, I’ll go crazy.” You stopped, realising what you’d said. “Sorry, that was insensitive.”

Cas chuckled, shaking his head. “It wasn’t. I’m not offended. But you’re right. You shouldn’t perplex yourself more than is necessary, especially when you need all of your energy to focus on getting through your heat without an Alpha.”

“It’s not the first,” you said, returning your attention to the television. You didn’t want him to keep talking, knowing that he’d bring up the inevitable truth - Omegas that go too long without an Alpha would eventually succumb to the heat. Fever would take hold, and you’d die. It was a natural thing, and one you couldn’t avoid, unless you took a mate.

And that didn’t seem to be on the cards here.

Thankfully, Cas didn’t say anything, and continued to watch the movie, occasionally asking questions about the characters, and you settled down, trying to forget that the world outside was gone, and this was all you had left.

*****

Opening your eyes, you saw the credits rolling on the television. The last thing you remembered was the start of the third movie in the trilogy, but you knew you hadn’t gotten far. Cas was gone from beside you, and you sat up, rubbing your eyes sleepily.

“Sam, could you take a look at this?”

The voice made you turn, and at the library table, standing in full light, was an Asian man, around your age. He was holding a book, looking down at it and you sucked in a breath as another man walked in to join him.

You’d seen pictures of him before, and knew this was Sam Winchester.

But he was dead, right?

Sam stopped by the Asian man, before he sniffed the air and frowned. “Kevin… do you smell that?”

“Smell what?” Kevin asked, looking up, glancing around the room. He eyes landed on you in the dark corner, and went wide, and you realised that whatever this hallucination was, he could see you. “Er, Sam?”

The taller man followed his gaze, his eyes landing on you, and you squeaked, scrambling off of the couch and landing on your butt heavily. You glanced back, seeing the television was off all of a sudden, and the room looked a little different to how it normally did. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay -” Sam cooed softly, moving around the table towards you, his hands held up and flat in a non-threatening gesture. He smelled like Alpha, and you whimpered, trying to move backwards and finding your path blocked by the television and the wall behind it. “I’m not gonna hurt you. How’d you get in here?”

Opening your mouth, you screamed for Cas, and the room swam, almost fading. You felt forward, covering your face and still screaming, feeling hands on your shoulders dragging you upwards.

“Y/N! Y/N!” Cas was calling you - it was his hands shaking you firmly. “Please, wake up!”

“Cas!” you sobbed, launching yourself into his lap. “I saw… I saw…”

“You were having a nightmare. You sat up and threw yourself down and -” He stared at you as you shivered in his hold. “You’re feverish.”

“No, Cas, I saw Sam. I saw Sam, and Kevin, and they were stood right there!” Your words came out in a rushed jumble, and Cas frowned, pushing you a little way away from him.

“Y/N, that’s not funny,” he said, slowly, narrowed his eyes at you. “I do not understand much humor but -”

You shook your head, pounding one fist against his solid chest. “I’m  _ not  _ playing. I  _ saw _ them. Sam was… he was coming towards me, and they  _ saw _ me, and I -” Your breaths became heavy and labored, distracting Castiel from what you were trying to explain. “Cas -”

He reacted in a second, scooping you up into his arms, carrying you through the bunker to your room. You gasped and clutched at him, feeling like you were going to vomit, your entire body shaking hard. “You are ill,” he stated, leaving you for a moment to retrieve your bed covers. “I’m not sure how to care for an Omega.”

“Cas, I’m not lying,” you wept, reaching out to him. “Please, don’t -”

“I know you’re not,” he said, looking more calm and demure that you’d ever seen, almost like whatever had reduced him to his unstable state was gone. “But there is something here. I can feel it inside you, making your heat worse. You need Dean.”

“No, I… I…” you shook violently, sweat dripping down your forehead onto the pillow. Cas took one look at you and disappeared, leaving you alone in the room. Sobbing loudly, you twisted your hands in the covers, screaming as loudly as you could.

There was no reply.


	11. Part Eleven

Cas popping up suddenly in the front seat of the Impala had Dean slamming his foot on the brakes. The car spun out, twisting in the road, and by the time it came to a stop, they were facing entirely the other direction, and Dean was glaring at Cas like he could kill him.

“What the fuck, Cas?”

“Y/N is ill,” the angel said, his voice steady and gaze intense. Dean sighed, dropping his head to the steering wheel.

“And? I’m not a doctor. Can’t you give her some aspirin and -”

“I believe she is in heat.” Dean froze, his eyes focused on the dashboard. There was a slight ringing in his ears, and he barely heard Cas continue speaking. “She was watching a movie. I was watching with her. She fell asleep, and woke up, screaming that she’d seen Sam and Kevin in the bunker. I do not know if it was a nightmare but she was feverish and possible hallucinating. I think it best if you return home.”

Dean’s head snapped up, and he looked back at his friend, seeing the seriousness in his eyes. In the last ten years, the angel had never been this clear, this precise. There was no riddle in his voice, and it wasn’t the first time in the last few weeks that he’d noticed it.

“There is something else,” Cas added, dropping his voice. “Her heat is violent. It came on suddenly. But I believe there is something else affecting her. I could see something but I couldn’t figure out what it was.”

“Cas, I’m six hours away. And you don’t have enough juice to pop me and the car back. Can you watch her, look after her until I’m back?”

The angel sighed. “I don’t know how to care for an Omega, Dean.”

“Look, just keep her hydrated, warm, painkillers - she’ll be okay for a few hours until I’m home, okay?” He kept his voice steady, covering up the worry he was feeling at the suddenness of the heat afflicting his Omega. It didn’t even occur to him to think of the possessive concern that she was his and that he was leaving her alone with Cas.

Cas nodded, before disappearing again. Dean waited a second, before he lifted his foot off of the brake, straightening the Impala up and starting down the road, back the way he came.

He just hoped everything would be alright when he returned home.

*****

Everything felt like it was fading in and out, and you tossed and turned in the bed, alternating between curling up on your side and perching on your knees with your head pillowed in your arms. Not an inch of you didn’t ache, and you desperately wished Castiel hadn’t left you alone. You didn’t even know where he’d gone. It wasn’t like he was an Alpha - he couldn’t be affected by your heat.

Someone said something, and you groaned, pushing up off of your hands to look towards the door, where a shadow passed. It was too dark to figure out who it is, and you whimpered as another stabbing pain rolled through your abdomen.

“I can smell it, Kevin. It wasn’t a ghost. She’s here, I just -”

The shadow in the doorway returned, looming darkly against the white of the corridor, and you blinked, trying to focus. It came closer, just as you collapsed back onto your side. Fingers brushed against your forehead, and you arched closer to the comforting touch.

“Who is she?” Another voice - Kevin, you thought feverishly.

A masculine sigh answered him. “I don’t know. But her scent is everywhere one second, and gone the next. I can’t figure it out.” It was Sam’s voice, or what you recognised as Sam’s voice, and his touch was against your skin, soothing the ache in your belly.

“She’s an Omega,” the other voice said. “Sam, we can’t -”

“I know, trust me. I know. We need to find out who she is, how she keeps appearing here.”

“Hurts,” you choked, and Sam’s hand cupped your face, turning your head towards him. Your vision cleared, and you saw his face. He was just as handsome as his brother, and he smelled just like him, which was confusing you.

Sam made a shushing noise, and you let your eyes fall closed again. “She’s fading,” Kevin whispered.

“No, no, stay here, sweetheart. Come on, stay with us. We’ll help you.”

Then his scent was gone, along with his touch, and you were alone again. Opening your eyes, you saw Castiel standing over you, frowning down at your dishevelled appearance.

“Dean is on his way home. He advised I should give you these.” He held out his hand, showing you a bottle of aspirin, which you knew wouldn’t do a damn thing. “You should rest, and drink.”

“Cas - I wasn’t… I saw them,” you pressed, reaching out to him. The angel took a step backwards, shaking his head. “Please, I’m not -”

“You have a fever. Something is making you see what is not real. Sam and Kevin are both dead. They have been dead for ten years.” His voice was shaking, almost like he was losing his composure. “Whatever you are seeing, it is a hallucination. Dean will be home soon.”

You weren’t sure if that was a good thing; Dean coming home would mean he’d be tempted to claim you, and you didn’t feel ready for that. If this was your heat, it would pass, and Dean needed to stay away until that happened. You didn’t think he was the type of Alpha to force himself on you, but if he’d been without rut for long enough -

“Keep him away,” you whined, burying yourself in the covers.

“You need your Alpha,” Castiel replied, placing the pills on the nightstand.

“He is not my Alpha!” you cried, feeling sobs choking your speech. The angel grunted something back at you, then pressed two fingers to your forehead. You had barely a second to react, and then everything went dark.

*****

When you opened your eyes, you were alone again. The door to your room was open, and you could hear Castiel in his room, muttering to himself. Sliding out of the bed, you stood on wobbly feet, feeling slightly better than you had before. Heat always started with a fever, but you’d never had it come on so suddenly.

Now the fever had passed, you felt a little more clear headed. You had no way of knowing what the time was, but it felt late, and as you walked slowly out into the corridor, you noticed that Sam’s bedroom door was open. Out of curiosity, you bypassed Cas’ door, not looking in, and headed to the other Winchester brother’s room.

The bed was unmade, and there were clothes on the floor. The light was on, and as you walked further in, you smelled the comforting scent of an Alpha, and inhaled deeply. Without stopping, you moved to the bed, bending to run your hands over the rumpled covers. They were soft, and warm, almost like someone had recently left them.

“What are you doing?”

Cas’ voice made you jump, and it was a jarring sensation as the room around you changed, like a wave moving through you. The bed was made, the light was off and the clothes had all disappeared. You turned, feeling a little sick at the momentum, swaying on your feet.

“I was… I thought there was someone in here.”

The angel teetered at the door, looking around the room, seeming unwilling to enter. “Only Dean comes in here. He has not yet returned. You were asleep for a few hours.”

“You knocked me out,” you accused, frowning at him.

“You needed rest,” he replied, coolly. “Your fever is gone.”

“Not the point. You didn’t ask.”

He shrugged. “I did not feel the need.”

Growling under your breath, you stomped past him, heading for the kitchen. He followed, not speaking, simply watching as you made yourself a drink. You ignored him, taking a seat at the kitchen table, remaining silent, even as he slipped into the chair opposite.

“I have upset you,” he stated. You glared at him, not answering, and he sighed. “I apologise. I did not want to make you angry. But you were sick, and the fever was getting worse. If you were asleep, your body could fight it more effectively, perhaps stop the hallucinations.”

“They’re not hallucinations, Cas,” you explained, calmly. “I can smell things, feel things. It’s like I’m in a different room, but I’m still here. I  _ saw _ Sam and Kevin.”

He shook his head. “Hallucinations can feel very real, and they can affect all of your senses. What you’re feeling… there is something different about you, I can see that. Something is twisting your perception.”

You frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

“When you first woke up, there was something dark in your soul. Something unnatural that was not a part of you. I hadn’t seen it before.” His blue eyes remained on you as he spoke, and you shivered at his intense gaze. “Whatever it is, it is most likely the cause of your visions. But I do not believe they are real.”

“They feel real,” you countered, but it sounded weak to your ears.

Castiel sighed, standing up. “Dean will be back soon. He was only six hours away. I suggest you eat, and get some more rest.”

“He shouldn’t be here if I’m in heat,” you warned. “He’ll… he might go into rut.”

The angel smirked. “You do not give Dean enough credit for how stubborn he is.”

“Biology doesn’t always work that way, Cas.”

“Maybe not. But he is your Alpha.”

You gritted your teeth, wanting to argue the point, but he only smiled at you and walked out of the room. Dropping your glass to the table, you stood up, returning to your room and slamming the door loudly, trying to indicate your displeasure, only to hear a chuckle a few seconds later.

For a few moments, you stood in the darkness of your bedroom, unsure what to do with yourself. It was childish, sulking in your room, but you were utterly convinced that you had seen Sam and Kevin, that it was real, and whatever Cas was saying was bullshit. At the same time, his observations that there was something wrong with you were worrying, and you weren’t sure how to take that news.

And then there was the imminent return of Dean, of  _ your _ Alpha. Your inner voice scoffed at that, having rejected the notion of having an Alpha for so long. In the long run, Dean was an attractive man, and from what you’d seen, a caring Alpha. But he was also closed off, and gruff, and you suspected he had a drinking problem as well.

Moving to your closet, you grabbed some clean clothes, deciding on a shower to clean off the sweat and grime you’d accumulated in the last day or so. It would most likely make you feel better, and distract you from the continuing ache in your belly.

At least, you hoped it would.

*****

Dean opened the bunker door loudly, slamming it behind him as he trudged in and down the steps. The war room was empty, along with the library, but he could scent Y/N in every room, the thick taste of her filling his mouth and nose, curling his belly and making him hard in a instant. He growled back his arousal, stomping down the hallway, finding Sam’s door open. With a frown, he looked inside, seeing everything where it should be.

“You’re back,” Cas said, stepping out into the hallway.

“I’m back. Where is she?”

“She woke up without the fever. But she is angry at me.” The hunter’s eyebrows raised up at that, and the angel shuffled a little uncomfortably. “I may have used my grace to render her unconscious for a few hours. She didn’t take kindly to me not asking for her consent.”

Dean sighed, understanding her disapproval of that. After ten years of people doing things to her without her permission, it was no wonder she reacted badly to Cas removing her free will. “At least she’s not feverish.”

“I believe she is showering.” Cas paused, staring at Dean as his friend struggled to contain his reaction to the thought of her naked, only a few doors away. “She’s still in heat. And she still claims that what she saw was real.”

“She seen anything else?” Cas shrugged and Dean made a noise of irritation in the back of his throat. “Fine. I’ll go and check on her.”

“Are you sure that is wise?”

Dean levelled him with a glare, and Cas held up his hands for a second, before turning and walking back into his room. The other man scowled, before moving along the corridor to the bathroom, pausing at the door. He placed one palm against the wood, almost able to  _ feel  _ her through it, and he grimaced as her scent swept over him again. God, she smelled so fucking good.

“Dean?”

Her voice was smothered by the spray, and the door between them, but he heard her clearly. “I’m here,” he answered. “Can I come in?”

She didn’t answer right away, and Dean stepped back, ready to flee, until she spoke again. “Yeah.” It was the softest word he’d ever heard from her, and his fingers were turning the door handle before he could even contemplate stopping. The wood swung wide, revealing her, sat in the shower cubicle, knees drawn up to her chest as the water sprayed down over her.

Concern immediately overrode everything else, and he swiftly moved to her side, crouching down on the tiled floor. “What’s wrong?”

“...hurts,” she whispered, not looking at him. She had the heel of one hand pressed against her forehead, her hair sticking to her skin with the moisture. The shower was cool, not as warm as it should be, and Dean stood quickly to turn it off. Grabbing a towel, he bent down again, wrapping it around her, lifting her into his arms easily.

Her wet fingers immediately curled into his shirt, and she nestled into him, even as he carried her from the bathroom and down the hall to her room. She whimpered as he set her down on her bed and didn’t protest when he proceeded to dry her off.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” he muttered, keeping his eyes focused on what he was doing. She didn’t say anything, but turned onto her side, tucking herself into a ball, apparently not caring that she was completely nude. “How bad is it?”

Y/N shrugged, and Dean sighed, pulling the covers up over her body. She still didn’t speak, and he watched her for a moment, before leaving the room, not shutting the door behind him. Cas wasn’t in his room when he walked past, and he was slightly grateful for that at that moment. He didn’t need an extra twenty questions.

He entered the kitchen, opening the cupboards and rifling through them until he found what he wanted - a tin of soup that was probably slightly past its best, but it looked fine when he opened it. He poured it into a pan and placed it on the stove, turning the heat on. It only took a few moments to heat, and he emptied it into a bowl, digging a spoon out from the drawers and carrying it through the corridor back to Y/N’s room.

She hadn’t moved. Tiny tremors racked her body, and Dean frowned, moving over to her side and placing the soup on the nightstand. “You need to eat.”

Her mouth opened, and she looked up at him for a split second, before clamping her lips together and nodding. With slow, purposeful movement, she sat up, allowing him to pull the covers up to protect her modesty, and she took the bowl when he offered it.

“I’m not sure what flavor it’s supposed to be,” he murmured, taking a seat at the end of the bed. “But it’ll warm you up.” She nodded, not replying as she sipped delicately at the liquid, not frowning at it, which he took as a good sign.

He waited until she’d finished the lot before taking the bowl back off of her. Standing to leave, he almost didn’t hear her soft plea, and when it registered, he looked back at her in confusion. Her eyes were wide and tear-filled, and he softened, his shoulders dropping at the desperation he saw in her gaze.

“You sure?” he asked, and she nodded. Dean sighed, moving to place the empty bowl on the nightstand, before kicking off his shoes. He contemplated undressing, but knew that would lead to too much temptation, and decided against it. She watched him as he padded around the bed, climbing in underneath the covers, automatically reaching for her to pull her against him. “You’re freezing.”

She shrugged, curling into him, and he looped his arms around her, feeling her tuck her head underneath his chin. Her breath was warm against his shirt, and he tightened his hold, willing his arousal away. “I don’t mind,” she whispered, and he looked down, seeing she hadn’t moved. “I know you can’t help it.”

“Why do you want me here?” he asked suddenly, unable to hold the question back.

“I trust you,” she replied, and he couldn’t help the warmth that blossomed in his heart at that. It was an almost foreign feeling, something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time. She wiggled a little, before she went still, and he felt her slip into an easier rest. For long minutes, he remained like a statue, unwilling to relax in his protective stance.

Eventually, his eyes grew heavy from nearly twenty four hours of being awake, and he let them fall shut, his body losing the tension it held as sleep started to take him.

Before he finally slipped away, he could have sworn he heard Sam’s voice.


	12. Part Twelve

A fresh ache woke you a few hours later, and you sat up, dismayed to discover that you were alone again. Dean’s scent was still there, faint on the covers, and you inhaled deeply, wondering why he’d left you alone.

Sliding out of the bed, you found a clean pair of sweats and a t-shirt, slipping them on quickly, before tiptoeing across the room to the open door. Castiel’s door was closed, and you paused, listening for a second outside, before moving on. Dean’s door was closed, but Sam’s door was open, and the light was on inside, emitting a faint glow into the corridor.

Remembering the last time you’d been in there, you hesitated, edging closer and looking around the corner. On the bed, Dean was sat, looking down at a piece of paper he held in his hands.

You stepped fully into the doorway, and he looked up, giving you a watery smile. “Sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t know where you’d gone.”

“You were sleeping. Didn’t want to disturb you,” he replied, looking back at the photograph. Your footsteps were silent as you moved to sit next to him, keeping a small amount of distance between your bodies. He handed you the photograph, and you took it, looking down at a much younger version of Dean and Sam. “We were in our twenties then. Handsome pair, aren’t we?”

A smile tugged at your lips and you nodded. “You miss him.”

“More than I can even…” he stopped, sighing heavily. “It was just me and Sam for so long. I didn’t know what to do when he was gone. Kinda threw myself into hunting, even when there was no one left to save.”

“You saved me,” you whispered, staring at the photo, running your thumb over the glossy surface. They were both smiling in the photograph, leaning against the old Impala. Sam’s hair was shorter, Dean’s face was less scarred, less angular than it was now. It was a glimpse into a past that you thought maybe Dean had been marginally happy in. Where there was less steel in him.

“Maybe,” he said, slowly taking the photograph back. “Or maybe I damned you to something worse.” He placed the photograph on the nightstand, behind the book that had a thin covering of dust on it. For a few moments, you sat in companionable silence, before Dean placed his hands on his knees, sitting straight. “You’ve been asleep for a while. You must be hungry.”

You gave him a shrug in response, keeping your eyes on the floor as he stood and walked to the door. “Dean…”

He paused, looking back at you. “Yeah?”

“Why did you save me?”

There was a heavy second, like a weight was crushing you while waiting for his answer. You raised your eyes to meet his, and he smiled at you. It was small, but genuine, and you felt something thud in your chest, inspiring butterflies in your belly. “Because you needed saving. And maybe I did too.”

*****

After a few days cooped up indoors, you wanted air. Dean was in the garage, playing exceptionally loud music, and doing whatever it was he did to his car. You’d asked about the hunt that he’d originally left on, but he’d murmured that it was a lame excuse and gone back to whatever he was doing.

He made it clear he wasn’t leaving until he was sure you were okay.

It was sweet, but a little claustrophobic, and everything was triggering memories of your cell, your former home and the torment you’d been through for ten years at the hands of Forrest. The heat was fluctuating, coming and going, and while it was in a lax phase, you wanted to walk. Castiel was nowhere to be found - you suspected he was avoiding you because you’d gone off at him over his use of his grace. Apologizing would have to wait until he decided to stop hiding, so you had to take your walk alone.

Halfway down the path, you took a left, heading deeper into the woods. You had faith you wouldn’t get lost, but even so, you broke up some twigs to mark your turns on the forest floor. The trees grew denser, the foliage blocking out the sunlight, until you hit a clearing that you’d never come across before.

Thick green grass covered the floor, and you kept moving forward, seeing the trees open up into a lush meadow, thick with wild flowers and patches of grass. It was a beautiful spot, and you wished Cas had come with you so you could share it with someone. You hadn’t seen anything this open and welcoming in so long…

A rabbit dashed out of a bush, making you squeak in fright and you fell back on your ass, grunting at the sudden impact. There was a moment of distortion, and you blinked, seeing a tall figure standing over you, brandishing a small crossbow.

“You…” he whispered, and you brought a hand up to shield your eyes from the sun, finally able to see who it was.

“Sam.”

He frowned, relaxing his hold on the crossbow, reaching down with his free hand to help you up. His skin was warm and his fingers strong as he pulled you to your feet and you gasped a little as you finally stood straight, snatching your hand back from him. “You scared my dinner,” he muttered, good naturedly, and you looked around, seeing the bunny scamper off into the trees. “Who are you?”

You wobbled, unsure if the world was real, if it was going to last more than a few seconds this time. Sam watched you, his eyes taking in every inch of your form. “Y/N,” you stuttered, stepping away, feeling a little self conscious in front of a man you barely knew, and that was supposed to be dead.

Clouds started to drift across the sky, dark and heavy with rain, and you cleared your throat, locking your eyes on his handsome features. You could see the resemblance between him and Dean - and not just in the height. It wasn’t hard to see the young man in the photograph in front of you, but he was rougher round the edges just like his brother.

“Your scent…” he mumbled, reaching out to touch your face and you ducked out of the way, unwilling to let him touch you. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I know,” you replied, steadily, raising your chin defiantly.

Sam smiled a lopsided smile that made you tilt your head. He was lighter than his brother, less… burdened. Was this real, or was he a figment of your imagination?

The sky darkened, and Sam looked up, frowning. “Rain.”

Something clenched in your belly, and you inhaled sharply, clutching your middle. Sam’s eyes darted back to you, and he stepped forward, grabbing your shoulder. You cried out, pain spiralling through you in agonising bursts and Sam called something to you, but then he was gone. The rain started to fall, thick rain drops soaking you through.

The fluttering of wings filtered through your head just as you collapsed into the wet grass, clutching at handfuls of mud and daisies. You vaguely registered someone lifting you, but all you could think as the world caved in on you, was that something was  _ very _ wrong.

*****

“She’s resting.”

Castiel’s voice made him look up from the tumbler of whiskey he’d been nursing. Since the angel had manifested in the library, with an unconscious Y/N in his arms, his mind had been racing. He could smell the thick sweet scent of her heat wherever he went, and it was doing nothing to calm his nerves.

“What happened to her?” he asked, as Cas moved to sit in the chair opposite him.

“I am unsure. Her heat was subsiding. It appears that something has triggered it to progress. Her fever has returned.”

Dean didn’t reply, picking up the glass and sipping from it, savouring the burn as it travelled down his throat to his belly, curling in with the emotions he was refusing to feel. He was starting to regret taking her away from that compound; maybe he had doomed her to a worse existence with him. 

“She needs an Alpha, Dean.” Cas kept his words low, as if he were conspiring. Dean didn’t look at him, and took another sip of the amber liquid, squeezing his eyes shut. “If this continues, the heat could kill her.”

The glass cracked at the bottom as he slammed it down onto the table, but the angel didn’t jump. He simply watched, expectantly, knowing that an outburst was coming. It was something he was all too used to with Dean since Sam had -

“It can’t be me,” Dean growled, releasing his tight hold on the tumbler. “I’m no good for her. What the hell can I offer her?”

“Life?” Cas suggested, and Dean laughed, the sound coming out harsh and without any touch of humor. “Dean, she could die -”

“You think I don’t know that?” Dean shouted, standing up so quickly his chair fell backwards, clattering to the floor. “I should never have taken her. She was better off away from me. Away from this hell of a life I’m living.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, fighting back frustrated tears. “I’m poison, Cas. Sam, Kevin… hell, I’ve been killing people close to me since I was fucking four!”

The angel shook his head, remaining in his seat. “You don’t kill people, Dean. I am still here.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “How come you’re so full of wisdom lately, huh? Six weeks ago, you were babbling to yourself and communing with plants.”

“I still commune,” Cas said, stiffly. “And I still talk to myself. I have to, when you won’t talk to me.”

“Is it her?” Cas blinked, the expression on his face blank with confusion. Dean shook his head, placing his hands on his hips as he looked at his only friend. “I never got a read on you, man. Do angels even have a preference? Do you want her?”

Cas frowned, pulling his head back as if he were affronted by the question. “No. I have no desire for her. I am neither Alpha, Beta or Omega. I’m an angel.” He paused, contemplating his own answer. “Or at least, I’m mostly angel.”

Dean threw his hands up, turning away to look up at the ceiling. “I can’t claim her. She’ll get through this. It’s just a bad heat.”

“And if it isn’t?”

The question hung in the air like a bad taste in his mouth, and Dean dropped his head, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He didn’t have an answer. He had no way of knowing what would happen to her. All he knew, was that since she came into his life, he felt less like stone that he had before.

But he’d already lost Sam. He’d lost so many people. This world was unforgiving now, and he had no right to have any dreams of what could be.

He had no right to put that on her.

*****

_ Snow was cold but soft under your paws as you ran, howling along with the pack. The sun hung low in the sky, creating shadows as it played with the trees towering above you. At the lead, a large light brown wolf led the charge, loping along elegantly, whipping up snow dust in his wake. _

_ With a long and piercing howl, he halted the pack, and they came to stop behind him, poised for his next order. He turned, looking at each Beta and Omega behind him, until they locked on you. Stunning green almost burned into your soul, and you shrank back, laying your chest in the snow, feeling the cool of it against your fur as you placed your muzzle on your front paws. Your tail was down, and it would have seemed to any onlooker like you were bowing to your king. _

_ He sniffed delicately, padding towards you, leaving wide paw prints in the snow as he moved. You remained still, keeping your eyes locked on his, not in a show of dominance - quite the opposite. _

_ Closing in, he bent his head, pressing his nose to yours, warm and wet, and you whined. It was a needy sound, and the Alpha wolf recognised it as his. _

The air was hot and heavy, pressing down on you as you blinked your eyes open, feeling the dryness in them from hours of sleep. You immediately kicked off the covers, reaching for the glass of water on your nightstand, gulping it down greedily. Images from the dream lingered in your head, and you contemplated them for a moment, before the call of nature made you move.

No one else appeared to be awake as you walked with bare feet down the hallway. The stone flooring felt blissful on your skin, and you knew without touching your own forehead that you were sweating. You didn’t understand why your heat had come back full force, but you were glad that Castiel had heard your pain, and come to your aid. He’d put you to bed, and this time, you pleaded for him to render you unconscious, just to end the pain.

You quickly used the bathroom, before realizing just how hungry you were. You hadn’t eaten in what felt like days, and immediately headed for the kitchen.

Dean was sat at the bench, reading what looked like an old journal, and you froze in the doorway. His reaction to your presence was automatic - his nostrils flared as he caught your fresh scent, and his eyes came up before his head did. For a second, you were drawn back into the dream, the greeny hazel of his eyes making you swallow nervously.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, dropping his eyes back to the gun he was cleaning. His voice was even, betraying nothing of his feelings, and you frowned. You’d been sure he was opening up a little more to you, but now, it was like every defense he had was back in place, like a solid wall of ice between you.

“I’m okay. Just hungry.”

He jerked his head towards the cupboards. “Help yourself.”

It was cold, the way he was speaking to you, and you swallowed thickly before moving towards the cupboards, giving him a wide berth. You located a tin of beans, the kind with little wieners in, and started about cooking them. Dean ignored you, focused on cleaning his weapons.

When the food was done, you slipped out, trying not to pay attention to the way your heart clenched at his complete lack of acknowledgement. Returning to your room, you ate half of the food, before placing the rest on the side, your stomach rolling as you ate more than you had in days.

“Hello.” The husky greeting came from Cas, who was standing in the doorway, and you looked up suddenly.

“Hi?” you squeaked back, folding your legs up underneath yourself. Cas stepped in, watching you carefully.

“You seem a little better,” he muttered, gesturing to the half eaten meal. “At least you’ve eaten.”

“Feel like I’m gonna puke it all back up,” you replied, shuddering at the thought. Castiel gave you a little half smile, before sitting awkwardly at the end of your bed. “Is Dean okay?”

He shrugged, twiddling his thumbs round each other, staring at the wall opposite. “As okay as Dean ever has been. Would you like to go for a walk?”

You shook your head, feeling even worse at the thought of going anywhere. “No. I feel like hell.”

“If it’s any consolation, I’ve been to hell, and you look nothing like it.”

There was a pause as you tried to process that statement, before you allowed yourself to smile. “You’re very odd, Cas.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No.”

Silence fell over the both of you for a few moments, and you picked absently at the threads on the coverlet. Cas continued to run his fingers around each other, not looking at you, and you wondered if there was something on the wall he could see that you couldn’t.

“Would you like me to help you sleep again?” he asked, turning his head quickly to look at you, and you jumped a little at the sudden movement. “I don’t mind.”

A sigh left your lips, and you shook your head again. “No. I think… I think I can manage it on my own.” You paused, pulling the covers up and snuggling down. Cas stood up, making for the door, and you sucked in a breath. “Would you stay?” He turned, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. “I… I feel better when I’m not alone.”

He stared at you for a second, before nodding his head and moving back to the bed, retaking his seat. You wiggled, getting comfortable, closing your eyes. A moment later, you felt Cas’ hand on your leg through the covers, and warmth swept through you, soothing every cell in your body. He wasn’t helping you sleep, but it seemed he needed to do something to help.

It was a silent gift that you were happy to accept.


	13. Part Thirteen

Dean stared at the whiskey bottle, running his thumb over the label. He’d been sat like this for at least thirty minutes, unsure what to do, wallowing in the thick scent of Omega heat that was permeating the bunker. It left him hard and aching, his heart thundering blood through his veins to the point that it was almost painful.

The cracked tumbler was empty now, and with a sigh, he stood, swiping it from the table and abandoning the mostly empty bottle of liquor. Walking through the corridor, he dumped the glass in the kitchen sink, before heading towards the bedrooms. Passing by Y/N’s door, he risked a look inside, seeing Cas sat at the end of the bed, his hand on the still form underneath the covers. The angel looked up at him, nodding in acknowledgement.

The hunter didn’t respond.

He continued on, slipping into the bathroom and locking the door, before methodically stripping. Checking there was a fresh towel on the rack, Dean turned the shower on, watching the spray for a few seconds, almost mesmerised by the movement of the water.

It was hot, and stung a little as he climbed in, allowing it to relieve a little of the ache in his bones. Closing his eyes, he tilted his head back, letting the water cascade over his face, and down over the smooth plane of his chest and stomach. He kept himself in good shape these days - Sam had always gone on at him about his bad diet, and with little to no processed food available, he found himself living that clean life his brother had always enjoyed.

Reaching forward, his fingers closed around the bottle of shower gel on the shelf, flicking the lid open with his thumb. He squeezed a small amount into his palm, rubbing the sweet smelling substance into his skin, over his chest, and further down across his stomach. His cock was hard, had been for what felt like hours, and as he slid four fingers under it to cup his balls, he hissed loudly.

He’d held back from this. He could smell his own Alpha scent, and knew that giving himself that outlet would only make things worse for Y/N. It was bad enough that he was thinking about the first time he’d seen her; he’d memorized the curve of her ass, the swell of her breasts, the column of her throat and how fucking perfect she would look splayed out under his body as he made her come over and over.

Dean dropped his chin to his chest, gasping through the water that curtained his face as he used the slick of the soap to run his hand back and forth over his length. The slit was weeping precome, and the thick ring of muscle that formed his Alpha knot was already hard and swelling. God, he wanted nothing more than to give her what her body craved, what his screamed for. Burying himself in her would lead to sweet relief, for both of them.

But the relief wasn’t worth the heartache she would suffer at his hands. He knew he was cursed. He carried it like a burden and a badge of honor.

Groaning at the touch of his own hand, Dean quickly worked himself towards release. His eyes remained closed, his fingers working with the lifelong knowledge of his own body, his imagination providing the images of Y/N. He could hear the sounds she’d make, ringing in his ears; she’d be wet and warm and whining for him, begging for his knot. She’d scream when she came, when he claimed her.

His cock jerked and pulsed, and he lurched forward in the cubicle, using his other hand to brace his body against the wall. The orgasm was swift, his spending coating the tiled wall and his fingers, the water quickly washing it away down the drain. Dean didn’t move, keeping his eyes closed, panting heavily in the wake of his climax.

When he opened his eyes, his cock was soft in his hand, and he straightened himself, grabbing the shower gel again and washing himself anew. It was all business, and he tried not to think as he finished what he needed to do, and stepped out. He grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his waist and scooping the bundle of dirty clothes off of the floor. 

He didn’t look into her room as he retreated to his own, shutting the door quietly and locking it behind him.

Exhaustion was chasing the heels of his alone time, and he didn’t bother dressing before he fell into bed, huddling himself in the covers. His eyes fell closed, and within minutes, he was asleep, his still damp hair soaking the pillow under his head.

*****

Dark eyes watched him from the shadows of his bedroom.

_ She smiled at him. _

_ Dean smiled back, watching her across the greenery at the front of the bunker, her arm looped delicately around the small form of his son, balanced on her hip. Her belly was round with their second; she was glowing and not just with the sun beating down on her. _

_ The child whined to be let down, and Y/N dropped him gently to his feet. He ran, little feet taking him across the grass towards Cas, who was crouched down, arms wide and waiting to catch him. Both of them giggled as they collided, and Dean laughed with them, moving up the steps towards his small family. _

_ Y/N turned, her eyes sparkling as she eyed her mate coming up the steps, and Dean felt a sudden desperate urge to hold her in his arms, to kiss her smooth cheek and tell her that he’d always love her. _

_ The sun faded, and the grass turned dull, thick black clouds covering the sky. Y/N looked away from him, her eyes going towards the sky as it became dark. “Rain,” she whispered, just as the heavens opened. _

_ Dean didn’t see them coming. Demons, eyes black as midnight in their meatsuits, emerging from the trees surrounding the clearing. They stomped through the plants that they’d grown, the life they’d built. He screamed, pushing his legs to run to them, but he was too late. _

_ In the pouring rain, he felt to his knees, mud and water soaking through the material of his pants. His face couldn’t express the pain he felt as he hollered in agony, crawling the last few feet to where she lay. Her eyes were closed and one bloodied hand was splayed across her belly, trying and failing to protect her unborn pup. _

_ Castiel was curled just a meter away, his body wrapped around the small form of Dean’s son. Blood coated them both, thick blond hair matted with red. Dean didn’t need to touch them to know they were gone. The angel’s eyes were burned out, a neat hole through his chest where the blade had pierced his heart.  _

_ He dragged Y/N closer, sobbing without restraint, tears mingling with the dirt and rain on his skin. She didn’t move; she felt cold. Her lips didn’t respond to his kisses, and her fingers remained limp in his, even as he begged her to come back, to not leave him, that he was sorry. _

_ “You’re poison, Dean. Everything and everyone you love breaks.” _

Dark eyes watched him from the shadows of his bedroom. Dean choked, cried out and woke with heavy panting breaths and sweat covering his skin. He clutched at his chest, feeling the pain and heartache from his dream, feeling it so hard he was half convinced it was real for a few seconds.

Moments ticked by, and he closed his eyes again, dropping his head into his hands, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, almost like it would destroy the vision of Y/N’s dead body.

The dark eyes left, satisfied with their work.

*****

“Where are you going?”

The weak voice made him look up from shoving clothes into his duffel bag. He didn’t turn immediately; she sounded weak and tired, and he could smell the worry on her. The heat wasn’t passing, and Dean wasn’t sure how much longer he could resist.

“I’ve got to head out for a few days,” he answered, keeping his back to her, willing her to accept the response and leave him be.

She didn’t, and a few seconds later, her hand slipped around his elbow. He jerked away automatically, gritting his jaw as the brief warmth from her touch faded. Y/N withdrew, cradling her arm to her chest like he’d burnt her, and guilt pooled in his throat, choking him.

“Is it me?” she asked quietly, and Dean squeezed his eyes closed for a second, wishing it wasn’t, wanting to lie to her. He knew if he said it was him, that she’d know he was lying. His silence stretched on, and she took a step back, knowing his reply before he’d even spoken it. “I can leave, if you want.”

The softly spoken words snapped him out of his stupor, and he turned towards her, eyes narrowed and sharp. “No!” he barked, and she flinched, making the guilt swell even more. “No,” he repeated, lowering his voice. “You shouldn’t leave. You wouldn’t be safe out there.”

“This is your home, Dean.” She stared at him, wide, wet eyes drawing him in. He wanted to pull her close, hold her tightly against his chest and tell her that he was sorry for being wrong, for putting her in the path of the trainwreck that was his life. But he didn’t; he stayed rooted to the spot, his knees shaking with the exertion of not giving her what she needed.

“It’s your home too, Y/N,” he whispered, earnestly, not taking his eyes off of hers. It was the longest she’d ever gone without looking away, and he didn’t want to be the one to break it.

But he had to. He had to leave, at least until her heat was over and they could exist around each other without the temptation that would get her killed.

He couldn’t lose anyone else.

He couldn’t lose her.

“I’ll be gone a few days,” Dean reaffirmed, turning away, breaking the eye contact and zipping up his duffel bag. She didn’t move, but he heard her sniffle slightly as he picked up the bag and hoisted it onto his shoulder. “Cas can get me if there are any problems.”

She watched as he crossed the room to the door, saw him hesitate, and she whimpered low in her throat. “Did I do something wrong?” she questioned, and the small sound of her voice made his heart shattered and drop into his stomach like a lead weight. The guilt was drowning him now, warring with the need to comfort her, to reassure her.

To love her.

“No,” he replied, tilting his head so she could see his face, but not enough so he could see her.

If he looked into her eyes now, he might get lost.

Dean walked away, down the corridor and into the garage. Y/N didn’t follow, and didn’t say anything else. Her scent ebbed as he moved, climbing into the Impala like a robot on autopilot.

It was only a few miles down the road that he felt the wetness on his cheeks.


	14. Part Fourteen

When Dean left, you hadn’t known what to do. You were angry with him, angry with yourself and to be honest, you felt more than a little pathetic. Everything about this was hitting you the wrong way - from the unsatisfied heat that was lasting far longer than it should, to the fact that you were either hallucinating the Alpha’s dead brother and friend, or you were going crazy.

Maybe it was both.

Eventually, you moved from the spot where you’d been standing, taking one look at Dean’s bed before crawling into the messy covers. His scent was stronger here, and it comforted you, although you knew in the long run, you were only making things worse for yourself. You were practically craving Dean, and you wanted to make a move but the fear of rejection, mixed with the fear of the unknown, was holding you back.

Your eyes fell shut after a few moments, your body succumbing to the exhaustion that was permeating your bones. It felt like you were swimming in inky blackness, not really sleeping, but unconscious all the same.

A hand touched your shoulder, shaking you gently, and you moaned in irritation. It was probably your mom, trying to get you up for school. She always got you up too early, because she couldn’t stand you and Joseph fighting over the shower.

“Get off,” you snarled, not opening your eyes, batting the hand away. “I’ll get up in a minute.”

“Y/N,” the voice repeated, deep and masculine, and definitely  _ not _ your mother.

It was horrible when years of events came rushing back like the worst nightmare you’d ever had. Your eyes snapped open and you sat up, immediately regretting the decision as your head swam with the fever that still pervaded your cells.

Sam was sat on the edge of the bed, looking at you with a deep frown of concern. “Y/N?”

“Sam…” you whispered, curling your fingers in the sheets. “I’m here again?”

He narrowed his eyes, turning his head a little. “Where is here, for you, exactly?”

You looked around, realizing you were in Dean’s room still, but it was different… it didn’t look lived in. The pile of folded clothes on the dresser was missing; his tapes were organised and the sheets you were under were different. “The bunker,” you replied, keeping your voice low. The last few times you’d seen Sam, it hadn’t last more than a few minutes, although it had been getting longer and longer every time. “I was with Dean -”

Sam’s eyes widened at that, and he reeled back like he’d been slapped. “Dean?”

Nodding your head, as it turned out, hurt. It felt like there were marbles in your head that knocked about painfully with every move. But you did it anyway, grimacing in pain. Sam stood up, placing his hands on his head and scrubbing through his long hair.

“Dean’s been dead nearly ten years. How could you have been with him?”

“He says the same about you,” you observed, gritting your teeth against the rolling cramps in your belly that were only getting worse. Heats had never felt like this; they’d never made you want to claw your own insides out. “God, this sucks.”

“You’re in heat,” he pointed out, sounding a little dumb as he did, and you levelled him with a glare that showed just how stupid the comment was. “Sorry. I guess you knew that.”

“How long am I going to be imagining you this time?” you muttered, and the frown returned to his face as he looked at you. “Sorry. Cas says I’m hallucinating.”

Sam blinked, his mouth opening a little before he snapped it shut and glanced towards the door. “You should come with me,” he said, holding out a hand. You stared at it like it might bite, and he stretched his fingers a little closer in encouragement.

It wasn’t hard to determine that the other Winchester was also an Alpha. One of the things that made you less convinced this was a hallucination was the tangible scent he emitted, and the warmth in the bunker. Sam smelled different to Dean - he smelled like home, like family but he didn’t affect you the way that Dean did.

Taking his thick fingers in your significantly smaller ones, you allowed him to tug you gently from the bed and towards the door. He led you out and down the corridor, stopping at what you knew to be Castiel’s room. “I think we need to find out what’s going on here. You say Dean is alive, but I watched him get killed by an angel ten years ago. Cas…” he paused, “Cas is in here.” He jerked his head towards the door.

You stared at the closed door, extracting your fingers from Sam’s hold and reaching forward to turn the handle. The door swung open slowly, revealing a room you’d never seen before, despite having been in there. There was no writing on the walls, no scribbled Enochian; everything was clean and tidied away.

The occupant of the room was laying on the bed, prone and still, breathing in shallow movements. You stepped in, keeping your eyes focused on Cas’ form.

“He’s been like this since Dean died. We’ve tried everything,” Sam explained, his voice quiet as he stood behind you. “He’s in there, we know that much. He’s just not…”

“Ten years?” you asked, looking over your shoulder. Sam nodded, his mouth set in a thin line. “But… how hasn’t he died? I know he’s an angel but -”

“We don’t know,” he admitted. “I guess, with the world ending, we sort of… let it slide. Kevin still looks but we haven’t found anything.”

You turned away, unable to look at your friend appearing so dead. Your legs shook and you whimpered in pain as cramps took you by surprise again. Before your knees could buckle, Sam was there, catching you in his strong arms and lifting you up.

“You’re really sick, Y/N,” he murmured, and you nodded, leaning your head into his chest, letting his scent comfort you. It was so starkly different from his brothers, but so real, and you were starting to think you were straddling some sort of reality barrier, like in the weird sci-fi films your brother had been obsessed with. “How long has this heat been going?”

“Days.” Sam frowned as he carried you out of Castiel’s room, heading back towards Dean’s. Your fingers clutched at his shirt and you shook your head. “Not in there. It doesn’t… it doesn’t smell like him.”

He changed direction, slipping into his room, and laying you on the bed, where you instantly curled up into a ball.

“Is… is Dean your Alpha?” he asked, hesitantly. “I mean, you’ve been showing up here for nearly a week, and every time -” He paused, sucking in a breath that sounded pained. “You smell like him.” You couldn’t imagine how much it must hurt to scent your brother when you’d watched him die,  _ mourned _ him even. “Is he yours?”

You shook your head, hating the tears that sprung to your eyes. “He doesn’t want me like that,” you replied. “He rescued me. From a man who kept Omegas and sold them. But he’s made it clear that he’s not interested. He left today, because I’m making things worse by being like this.”

Sam watched you for a moment, the crease in his forehead dipping even further. “You were in the slave trade? Were you -” He stopped, almost like he’d be crossing a line if he said it.

“No. I never. I fought them. Might have busted a few noses.”

He chuckled at that. “You seem like his type. You wouldn’t take any shit from him.”

“Cas keeps saying…” you trailed off, and you swallowed around the lump in your throat. “Cas keeps insisting that Dean is my Alpha.”

“Do you want him to be?” Sam asked, honestly. You contemplated your own answer - this man was pretty much a stranger, despite how much you’d been told about him. But there was also something about him that made you trust him. He made you feel as safe as Dean, even if it was in an entirely different way. 

“I never wanted an Alpha. I fought against it. But Dean is… there’s something that drags me to him, like puppet strings.” You shrugged, dropping your eyes away from his. “It sounds stupid, like some trashy romance novel.”

Sam laughed, shaking his head. “No, it doesn’t.”

“I’ve stayed here for ages this time,” you mentioned, frowning. “What if I don’t go back?” Another cramp stabbed at your abdomen, and you grunted, wrapping your arms around your middle. Sam gave you a sympathetic look, placing his hand near you on the bed.

“We’re gonna figure out what’s going on. I promise. But I need you to do something for me.”

You looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

“If you want Dean, if you feel like he’s yours, despite it being a trashy romance; don’t hold back.” His eyes focused on yours, and you blinked at him, your heart clenching at his suggestion. “You don’t strike me as the lay down and roll over type of girl. If I know Dean, if all this is real, if he’s alive… he needs you. He’s always needed someone. And I can’t imagine he’s been good to himself in all this, if the world is the same.”

“He hasn’t.”

A smile tugged at his lips. “No one knows him like me.” He patted your thigh, the smile on his face remaining, the softest expression you’d seen on anyone in over a decade. “Get some rest. If you’re still here when you wake up -”

The edges of your vision went black, and you rolled your head back on the pillows, crying out. You thrashed and turned, feeling someone holding you down, suffocating you. It smelled like rotten plants, wet mud and blood, and you screamed, attempting to buck the force off of your body. Your eyes shut painfully, as if they were being forced to do so against your will.

_ “Meddling bitch -” _ A voice snarled, and you lashed out with your fists, connecting with something. The blackness lifted, and you scrambled onto all fours, looking over the edge of the bed to see Castiel on his back on the floor, his fingers rubbing at his jaw.

“Good punch,” he grunted, and you gasped.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologized, dropping back to sit on your feet. “I was…”

“You were with Sam,” Cas said, frowning as he got to his feet. “There is something very wrong here.”

You pouted, pooling your hands in your lap. “Tell me about it.” He smirked, a strange expression on his face, and you narrowed your eyes. “I need to find Dean.” The angel stiffened, eyeing you closely. “You know where he is.” He stepped backwards, shaking his head. “Cas, there is something going on. Dean needs to be here...he needs to help us. I’m not a hunter. Do you know what to do otherwise?”

“Dean left for a reason,” he pointed out. “He didn’t want to force you into something you didn’t want.”

“What if I do want it?” you snapped back, climbing off of the bed onto shaky legs. “He didn’t stop to actually  _ ask _ me, now, did he? No, he ran off. I thought Alphas were all bull-headed knot-brains, but Dean seems to be more like a scared little girl.”

Cas scowled. “I don’t know why you’re shouting at me. I didn’t leave.”

“Tell me where he is.”

“It would be a betrayal of confidence,” Cas replied, and you lurched forward, unsteady, gripping his shirt in your fist. It was a pathetically weak display of aggression, especially considering he could probably throw you into the middle of next century, but you had no other way of showing him how serious you were. He looked down at your hand, unsure what to make of it. “You’re ill.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“If you don’t rest and get over this fever, your body will give out. Your organs will fail. You will die.”

“No, I won’t, because we’re going to fix whatever is fucked up.”

Cas sighed, rolling his eyes and you thought about punching him, but realised that it would most likely be as effective as a drop kick from a fruit fly. “I won’t take you to him.”

“You don’t have to.”

“You can’t go alone.”

“Are you going to stop me?” you challenged, feeling more stupid than brave. “If Dean doesn’t… if we don’t… look, you were right. He’s my Alpha. He needs to realize that. Something is going on here, and Sam is alive, Cas. Sam and Kevin… they’re both alive, and we need to figure out how. And  _ fix _ it.” He stared at you, his blue eyes searching yours, even as you wobbled on your feet. “Cas -”

“The Romeo Roadstop,” he announced, dropping his shoulders. “He’s there. It’s where he always goes when he doesn’t want to be here.”

You smiled, pressing up onto tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”

“I still don’t agree. You are ill. This heat could kill you. Something is making it worse.”

“I know. But I fought for ten years, Cas. You can damn well guarantee I’m going to fight this. If Dean doesn’t want a meek little Omega then fine, he won’t get a weak little Omega. He’s gonna get a faceful of this one, and I’ll show him that he’s mine.”

Cas’ mouth twisted into a smile. “He was so very wrong about you,” he commented, and you arched an eyebrow, turning your head to look at him. “He was convinced that being with you would kill you, that he was poison. But I think… I think you are one of the few that belong together. Souls cut from the same cloth.” It sounded even more like a trashy romance than what you’d said to Sam earlier, but it made you smile all the same. “He needs you. Like you need him.” He tilted his head. “Sam is really alive.”

“Yeah, he is,” you replied softly, heading for the door, clinging to the frame as you paused to look back at him. “And we’re going to get him back.”


	15. Part Fifteen

Cas didn’t follow you as you made your way down to the garage. You’d thrown back some painkillers in an effort to stay upright, but as you could tell you were getting worse as the moments passed. Stubbornness was the only thing that kept you going, your need to find Dean driving every piece of you in one direction. By the time you located the keys and slid into the driver's seat of the old ‘76 Camaro, you were pouring with sweat, your clothes clinging to you with every move you made.

Pulling out of the garage onto the dirt road that led from the bunker, you were grateful you’d chosen the automatic to steal. You weren’t clear on how to drive stick, and it had been a long ass time since driver’s ed. The Camaro rumbled along, and you rolled down the window to let in the fresh spring air, trying to cool yourself down.

Your vision was blurry as you drove slowly, but you were too determined to give up. Several times, you swerved across the road, thanking your lucky stars that the apocalypse meant cut traffic times and no tailbacks.

The car crawled along the road, as you tried to remember the instructions on the map. The Romeo Roadstop was only a few miles away, and you hadn’t bothered to bring the map, seeing as you couldn’t read the damn thing anyway. Downside to the apocalypse - no satellite navigation.

Clouds gathered across the sky as it darkened, and you realized that you had little to no idea of the date anymore. It had been an almost-obsession when you were at the compound, keeping track of days and times, but since coming here, you didn’t care so much about it. Maybe it was because you were building something of a life.

You kinda wanted to continue that.

Passing the mile marker for Route 36, you pushed your foot down on the gas, wobbling the Camaro along the road. Rain started to fall, heavier and heavier by the moment, and you flicked the wipers on. It made little to no difference, and you groaned as cramps rolled through you, making you drop your forehead to the wheel. The car swerved sharply, and you jolted upright, slamming your foot on the brake just as you spotted the burnt out truck in front of you.

You were panting as you watched the rain hit the window, obscuring your vision. If you hadn’t stopped when you did, you would have smashed against the truck, and you thanked your lucky stars that you had seen it.

Maybe Cas had been right about this. Damn him and his “I won’t help but I won’t stop you” attitude.

The clouds were getting thicker and thicker, the rain doubling, and you rolled the window back up as your shirt started to soak through. It was almost horizontal, and lightning crashed across the sky, bringing loud cracks of thunder with it. You flinched at the sound, doubting yourself as your foot held fast on the brake.

“You don’t seem to be going very far,” Castiel pointed out, and you shrieked at him, before slapping his leg where he’d appeared in the passenger seat.

“What the fuck, Cas?!” you screeched. “You scared the shit out of me!”

He blinked, frowning at the expression. “I’m sorry. I was just sitting there, and you left and I thought… well, Dean would definitely kill me if anything happened to you.” He sighed, giving you a tight smile. “I am sorry I didn’t offer my assistance sooner. I don’t like to leave...”

“Well, you’re here now,” you grumbled, flinching again as thunder split the sky once more. Cas leaned forward, peering out of the window.

“This storm is highly unnatural. It started very suddenly, after you left.” You glanced at him, raising an eyebrow in confusion, and he shrugged. “It seems unnatural anyway. There is an energy similar to what I felt in your soul.”

You paled a little, eyes wide as you looked up at the blackened sky. “You think it’s whatever is causing me to see Sam?”

“Possibly.”

“We need to get to Dean,” you said, rushing the words out and forcing the car into reverse. The tires squealed as you pulled it back, and the car made a horrible crunching sound as you changed back to forward gear, slamming your foot down on the gas. The Camaro peeled along the road, and you kept your focus, gritted your teeth against the pain and clutching the wheel so hard, the skin of your knuckles faded in color with the lack of circulation.

“Y/N, watch out!” Cas shouted suddenly, and then you saw it. This time it wasn’t a truck, but a solid thick wall of writhing blackness, like the most evil fog you’d ever seen. The rain slowed to a soft pounding, just as the Camaro collided with the wall and the front of the car crumpled. Cas’ hand landed on your shoulder, just as you were thrown forward by the impact, and you felt wet concrete under your body. He’d teleported you out of the car, both of you landing heavily on the floor.

You groaned in pain, rolling over to look up at the black wall of solid smoke. “What the fuck is that?”

“I have no idea,” Cas mumbled, grunting as he got to his feet. He held his hand out, helping you to your feet, and you gasped for breath, feeling the start of bruising on your ribs. “Are you okay?”

“Might pass out,” you muttered. “Just to warn you.”

The wall swirled and pulsed, in time with the thunder and lighting overhead, barely a second between them. You looked up, worry all over your face.

“What is this, Cas?”

“I think it’s the source of our problems,” he replied, following your gaze. “It’s tampering with my grace, I can’t -” He cut off abruptly, dropping his eyes to you as they went wide. His eyes rolled back in his head, and it was almost like slow motion as he dropped to the floor like a stone.

“Cas!” you cried out, dropping to your knees next to him. He was flat on his back, one leg bent awkwardly underneath him. His eyes were wide and you could hear him mumbling something, but his lips were barely moving and you didn’t understand the language he was speaking.

At that moment, the entire world fell eerily silent - not even the rain made a sound as it hit the floor and the car. You looked up, your eyes searching around you, but you didn’t see anything. “Cas,” you whimpered, shaking the angel again. “Come on, Dean will kill you if anything happens to me, remember?”

“Oh, sweetheart, he can’t hear you.”

The cold voice came from behind you, and you turned, seeing the silhouette of a woman, her features barely distinguishable. She was almost disembodied, and two dark eyes peered out from under what was either her hood, or a thick thatch of black hair.

“Who are you?” you whispered, more fear in your voice than curiosity.

She chuckled, and the sound made your blood churn. “That doesn’t matter to you. Or it won’t. Soon.” Her hand came up, and you saw the sickly blue shade of her skin, the veins sticking out visibly. You shook your head, tumbling backwards onto your butt, trying to crawl backwards away from her. “Stay still, darling. This will probably hurt more if you don’t.”

*****

He’d been pacing for what seemed like hours, treading a metaphorical hole in the already worn motel carpet. His bag sat on the bed, unpacked, untouched for the most part, and he had run his fingers through his hair so many times, it was a wonder he wasn’t going bald.

It was a fight to stay here. He could feel it in the very core of his being, like a tug back home, back to her. But he had to stay away. Temptation was the path to her destruction, and goddammit, if Dean was responsible for her demise, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. She was everything he’d denied himself when the world had been whole, and everything he didn’t deserve now.

She’d get through the heat. Cas had to be wrong. She’d be fine, and they could go back to whatever it was they had before all this. He wasn’t even sure what that was, but he knew it was better than tying her to him through a bond that he wasn’t slightly worthy of.

His stomach churned as he paced, conflicting thoughts warring inside his head to the point that it hurt. He couldn’t shake the image of her, sick and sweating, and it clashed with the vision he  _ wanted _ , of her naked and writhing below him.

And then there was that dream.

It left him almost terrified to sleep, for fear of having to relive that blood soaked nightmare all over again. No, he couldn’t risk her, not like that. Something would always happen, always be following him. Apocalypse or not, she deserved better.

He should have left her in that compound. He was selfish. He’d damned her.

Something twisted in his chest as rain started to hit the motel window with a clatter, thunder chasing on its heels. Dean stopped pacing, looking out of the filthy glass to the blackened sky, frowning deeply at the unnatural swirl of the clouds. Kansas wasn’t a stranger to tornadoes, but he’d never seen the sky look so…

The cloud moved, channeling to one spot in the distance, and Dean followed it with his eyes, seeing something very un-tornado-like hit the ground. He couldn’t see anything else; the trees blocked his line of sight, but as lightning coursed down to the ground like a fence, he knew it wasn’t anything good.

His heart constricted painfully, and he cried out, dropping to one knee on the dingy carpet, clutching at his chest with his hand, his eyes watering at the pain. “What the fuck?” he panted, swallowing and gasping for breath. He looked up at the window again, fear and dread settling into a lump in his throat. “Y/N,” he whispered, pushing himself to his feet.

Whatever was out there… he knew she was in danger. He didn’t question how.

Not even bothering with his bag, he ran out of the abandoned motel, starting Baby before he even had the door shut. His clothing was soaked through, and the road was barely visible in the rain as he drove, but he didn’t care, pressing his foot down harder and harder, aiming for where the cloud touched the ground.

As he pulled up, he saw the wall of black curling smoke in the road, blocking it, and he slammed on the brakes, causing the Impala to skid on the wet asphalt, halting just before colliding with the wall. Dean opened the door, stepping out of the car, staring at the wall through the howling wind and rain.

“Y/N,” he bellowed, just as the wind pushed the door of the car against him, pinning him against the roof and he grunted in pain, pushing back against it with his hands. 

And all at once, everything fell silent. The rain still fell, but there was no sound. He could feel the wind, but couldn’t hear it, and his eyes went back to the wall of smoke, seeing it swirl and become transparent for a split second.

Enough to see Y/N on the floor, next to Cas, her hands up as if she were trying to protect herself.

An ear splitting scream made him flinch, and the wall of black smoke imploded outwards and Dean ducked, covering his face, looking up at the last second to see the figure of a woman disappear in a wisp of smoke and lightning.

Sound returned to the world, but the rain and wind had gone, the sky slowly clearing. Dean broke into a sprint, sliding across the floor to Y/N’s side. She was unconscious, soaked through, and he placed one hand on her forehead, feeling a fever rising quickly.

“Dean -” Cas choked, pushing himself up. “I… I couldn’t…”

“What the fuck happened?” Dean snapped, pulling Y/N into his arms, cradling her closely. “What the fuck was all that?”

“I don’t know,” the angel admitted. “Whatever it was, it was able to render me inert. I fought against its hold, but it was too strong.” He paused, looking at the hunter thoughtfully. “Not strong enough to kill outright.”

Dean looked down at you, feeling your breathing increase. “She’s worse.” He watched as Castiel reached over, pressing two fingers to her forehead. “Anything?” There was no response for a second, then Cas looked at him with concern in his eyes.

“Her condition has most definitely worsened,” he whispered. “I fear… she does not have long. Whatever that thing did to her -”

“We find a cure,” Dean interrupted, getting to his feet, not relinquishing his hold on the Omega in his arms. He held her in his arms tightly, feeling her head roll to rest against his shoulder. “Get in the car. We need to get her back.”

*****

She didn’t wake the entire drive back to the bunker, and Dean gave up the driver’s seat in favor of sitting in the back, unwilling to let her go. He felt like a fool, and he couldn’t even look her in the eye to apologize.

“This isn’t your fault, Dean,” Cas said, looking in the rearview mirror at his friend, as he guided the car back down the dirt road to the bunker. “You cannot blame yourself.”

“Except you’re wrong and it is,” Dean spat back, not looking up at him, pushing a strand of hair away from the slick skin of your forehead. “If I’d listened, and not been so pigheaded…”

“Neither of you wanted to accept the reality of the situation. She knew as well as you did. And she was on her way to tell you that -”

“Tell me what?”

Castiel sighed, turning his eyes back to the road as the bunker came into view. “She was going to tell you that she wanted you to be her Alpha. That she was yours, and you hers. And that Sam… Sam is alive, Dean. Y/N wanted to save him, and save you.”

Dean stared at her, his jaw slack as he contemplated her peaceful features. “You believe that Sam stuff is real? That she’s been seeing him?”

“I think it is all connected, yes.” The angel stopped the car outside the bunker entrance, and didn’t speak again as Dean climbed out of the vehicle, Y/N cradled carefully in his hold. She didn’t stir as he walked her into the building, not even as he pushed his way into his room, laying her in his bed. It didn’t feel right to have her anywhere else.

“I need to get her out of these wet things,” Dean muttered, knowing Cas was behind him. “You mind?” 

“I will see if I can find anything to help.”

Dean listened to Cas’ footsteps retreat down the hallway, before turning back to Y/N, who still hadn’t moved. Her skin was drawn, paler than usual, and beads of sweat coated her, dripping down the side of her face as she breathed in shallow, harsh pants. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered, placing one hand on her forehead, wincing at the heat coming from her.

Quietly, he got her out of the wet clothes, dressing her with some difficulty in a thin shirt of his own, and a pair of shorts, before placing a cold cloth against her forehead. He contemplated an ice bath, but he wasn’t sure where to even get the ice from, so it wasn’t much of an option. Instead, he stripped off his own clothing, changing into dry boxers and a t-shirt, situating himself next to her on the bed. His fingers laced through hers, and he simply watched her sleep.

He must have dozed off at some point, and woke when Cas returned to the room. Dean sat up a little, hoping for good news, but the look on the angel’s face wasn’t one he would associate with happiness.

“Nothing?”

“The only way to stop her heat…” Cas started, looking at him earnestly, “is to accept an Alpha as her mate. That bond would save her.”

Dean looked down at Y/N’s prone form, his hopes falling. “She’s unconscious, Cas. She can’t accept anything.”

“If it was to save her life, I’m sure -”

“No!” Dean snarled. “Whatever way you color it, I can’t do that. She… she deserves better than that. And I can’t…” he stopped, swallowing to control his rage at the mere suggestion. “Find something else.”

“Dean -”

“Find something else!” Dean shouted, and the angel nodded, his mouth set in a thin line. “Please, Cas -” He could feel the tears pricking his eyes, and he looked away, his fingers tightening around hers, willing her to squeeze back.

“I’ll keep looking,” Cas whispered, leaving the room. Dean felt worse than he had before, knowing it wasn’t Cas’ fault; it was entirely his. He curled into her side, allowing the tears to fall silently, clinging to her like he could work a miracle if she just knew he was there.

He felt the change come over the room before he saw it, and his eyes snapped open as a figure loomed in the doorway. Sitting up, he frowned in the dim light, and the figure stepped closer, becoming illuminated by the small lamp on the nightstand.

After ten years, he hadn’t changed an awful lot - his hair was longer, there were tiny lines around his eyes and mouth, but he was still the same, mostly. Dean exhaled slowly, unable to believe what he was seeing.

Sam smiled back, taking his own deep breath. “Hi, Dean.”


	16. Part Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for sexual assault, attempting rape, violence, assault, derogatory language, and slavery.

“Sam.”

His voice was barely a whisper, and Dean sat up a little further, trying to decide whether this was real or not. He could be dreaming, or hallucinating. It had been so long since he dared to let himself hope that he’d somehow find a way to bring Sam back…

“It’s me,” Sam replied, moving closer to the bed, his attention shifting to Y/N, who remained still, her body trembling slightly with the fight against the heat. “She’s worse than she was.”

Dean nodded, looking down at her. “Something happened. She was… something is trying to kill her. Whatever it is, it took Cas down like a stone.” Sam swallowed, reaching down to press the back of his fingers to Y/N’s cheek; she still didn’t stir. “Sam, how is this -”

“The best we could figure is that we’re in the same place but… not,” he replied, giving his brother a sad look. God, Dean had missed those puppy dog eyes of his. “I know that’s not helpful -”

“It’s more than we’ve got,” Dean muttered, pulling his fingers loose from Y/N’s, moving to get off the bed. The room seemed to ripple around him as he withdrew, and he glanced up as the room suddenly became empty - Sam was gone. His eyes widened and he stood straight, looking at the exact spot his brother had been. “Sam?”

He knelt back on the bed, reaching to touch Y/N’s hand again, frowning as the entire room shifted, and watching it made him feel queasy. Sam was there again, staring at him like he’d seen a ghost.

“What the hell was that?”

Sam gaped, shrugging. “You… vanished. Like a screen wipe in Star Wars. One second you’re there, then the room is… different and you’re gone.”

“But she was still there…” Dean pondered watching Y/N’s eyes flicker beneath her closed lids. “She’s the common denominator.” Both brothers stared at her, identical frowns on their faces. “All this started when she came here, Sam. What if… what if she’s the link?”

“That’s why something is trying to kill her,” Sam finished. “Dean, if she dies -”

Dean floundered, clinging to Y/N’s hand. “We can’t find a way to stop her heat. Whatever is making this worse, we can’t fight it. She’s unconscious, and I couldn’t -”

Sam shook his head, understanding Dean’s meaning before voiced it. “No, of course not, I get that. She needs to be conscious of the bond.” They lapsed into silent, thinking over the problem. Dean moved, brushing her hair back again. It kept sticking to her forehead, and he didn’t want her to be any more uncomfortable than she was. He briefly wondered if she was dreaming, locked inside her own head.

An idea hit him like a ton of bricks, and he looked up sharply. “Sam… she’s dreaming. The way her eyes flicker, she’s in REM sleep, right?” Sam nodded, his eyebrows dipping and then raising suddenly as he caught onto Dean’s meaning. 

“African Dream Root,” Sam whispered, and Dean nodded emphatically. “If you can go into her head, and make the connection there…”

“Her body will think it’s real, and fight the heat.”

Dean leaned in, pressing a kiss to Y/N’s forehead, before looking up at Sam once more. “There’s dream root in the storage room. I’m gonna have to… I’m gonna have to go and get it.” The underlying meaning in his words was clear, and Sam swallowed visibly, before giving him a curt nod. “We’re gonna see each other again, Sammy.”

“I know,” Sam replied, his eyes searching his brother’s face. Dean gave him a quick smile, before releasing his hold on Y/N’s hand. The room shifted, and Dean fought the urge to vomit, before scrambling off of the bed.

“Cas!” he shouted, running down the corridor. “Cas!”

The angel appeared from the library. “Is she okay?” he asked, blue eyes clouded with concern.

“We need the African dream root. I have to go into her head. It’s the only way,” Dean rushed out, and Cas cocked his head to the side. “I saw Sam. Somehow, Y/N, she’s the link. She’s connecting us, and Sam… fuck, Sam’s  _ alive _ , Cas. He’s there and he’s real and…” He sucked in a breath. “I can’t believe this is happening.” His heart thundered in his chest, and he felt Cas’ hand on his shoulder as he bent over.

“I’ll get the dream root. You get everything else we need.”

*****

Dean wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting when he had drunk down the foul concoction and laid down on the bed next to Y/N. She was still as death, barely breathing, and Cas had promised to pull him out if it looked like anything was going wrong. His eyes drifted shut under the influence of the dream root, and when he opened them, everything was dark.

It took a moment for his vision to adjust. When it did, he saw that he was standing in a long corridor, lined with doors. It had all the appearances of a prison, and sobbing emanated from one of the doors nearest to him. Curiosity drew him close to the metal door, and he peered through the tiny slit, seeing a girl with dark hair and porcelain skin curled up in the corner, naked save for a collar around her throat. She was sobbing heavily, and he frowned, taking a step back. Everything in him called for him to save her, but he knew this wasn’t real, and whoever she was, she was long out of his reach.

Sighing, he started to move down the corridor, taking slow measured steps. He knew he could get hurt in the real world if he was hurt here, so he was on edge, wary of any danger coming his way.

The end of the corridor was in sight, and he frowned as he saw a dim light spilling out from a open cell. Whimpers came from inside, and Dean kept moving, not stopping until he was outside the cell.

There she was. She was younger, softer, just as naked as the other girl had been. She was on her knees, a thick black collar around the column of her neck, tight enough that he could see where it was digging in. Behind her, a grim looking woman in black brushed her hair forcefully, and Dean noticed then that Y/N was wet, droplets of water coating her shivering form.

“You have to behave, girl,” the woman was saying, as Y/N remained stoically quiet, her face set in grim determination. “I know you’ve not had long to adjust, but you need to accept what you are. The Alphas will not have it any other way. And you don’t want to be hurt now, do you?”

The question sounded rhetorical, and Y/N didn’t answer, her expression not changing. Dean could see the determination on her face - he’d seen it on her enough times to know this was not a girl that was easily broken.

“You’ll be taken down to the proving rooms,” the woman continued. “They’ll see exactly what kind of Omega you are, and assign you accordingly. Maybe the master’ll put you out on the next auction, find you a mate.”

“I don’t want a mate,” Y/N replied thickly, something dangerous flashing in her eyes. The woman scowled, tugging painfully on her hair, but Y/N didn’t even squeak. If anything, she looked angry, more on edge than even Dean felt right now.

“You will do as you’re told, Omega.”

Y/N’s hands fisted behind her back, and Dean noticed then that she was cuffed, both ankles and hands bound together. Her face twisted as the woman kept brushing her hair, braiding it behind her head. 

“There we go, Twenty.” She patted her head patronizingly, and Dean imagined if her hands were loose, she’d have throttled the woman until she choked to death. He could feel his own hands itching with that urge. 

A figure approaching behind him, and Dean leapt back, falling into an aggressive stance at the newcomer, who completely ignored him and moved into the cell. He was large, clearly Alpha, his arms thicker than tree trunks. The woman smiled at him, all teeth and no humanity.

“She’s ready. Master likes this one.”

“She’ll want to cause less fuss than she did when we brought her in,” the Alpha replied, roughly catching Y/N’s arm and hauling her to her feet. She kept her face down, but the cloud of anger on her face never dissipated. “Leon’s still nursing a dislocated shoulder.”

Dean didn’t miss the slight twitch of Y/N’s lips, and he felt a surge of pride in his chest. She’d fought - he had a feeling she always had. No wonder Forrest had warned him about her.

“Let’s go,” the Alpha ordered, harshly dragging Y/N towards the cell door. She shuffled, clenching and unclenching her fists within her restraints, and Dean wondered how many different ways she’d decided to hurt the burly Alpha.

He followed close behind, watching them walk down the corridor, keeping up as they descended steps at the other end, into another row of rooms, all with open doors. These cells looked a little more comfortable than the one Y/N had been in, but they were all empty. Halfway down, the Alpha tugged Y/N into one of the rooms, and Dean had to bite back a snarl as he watched him throw her onto the bed with little to no care for how she landed.

“Johnny!” The Alpha bellowed, and Dean pressed himself to the wall as another Alpha appeared, this one smaller in stature but no less stocky. He entered the room, smirking at the Omega struggling to right herself without the use of her hands. “This one’s fresh for training.”

“She the one who busted up Leon’s shoulder? Man, he won’t quit bitching about that.”

“Took a chunk out of Simon’s cheek too,” the first Alpha grunted, kicking out at Y/N with his boot, catching her leg. She hissed in pain and glared at him, looking like she wanted to rip his throat out.

Dean had seen her do it, after all.

Johnny grinned, grabbing at Y/N face, his thick fingers pressing roughly into her cheeks. “Feisty. I like it when they resist.”

She pulled her face back, spitting at him, almost snarling, and Johnny grimaced, while the other Alpha laughed at his disdain. “Look at her. She’s just a little kid.”

“I like ‘em young,” Johnny growled, his hand slipping from her face down her throat. He groped her breast and Y/N reared back, making a noise like a wild animal.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” she spat, using her own body weight to rock back and raise her bound feet. The heel of her tiny left foot caught the Alpha square in the jaw and he crumpled backwards, yelling out in pain. Dean’s entire body vibrated with the need to jump in but he was just an observer, and knew he couldn’t do anything here.

“Thuck, I bit thoo my tongue!” Johnny mumbled, his words distorted by his injury, blood spilling out of his mouth and dribbling down his chin. “Thucking bith!” The first Alpha scowled as Y/N grinned at her own success, and raised his fist, bringing it down on her cheek.

Dean flinched, turning away, the scene growing fuzzy. He stumbled, almost dizzy from the change, and when he managed to stand straight, he was still in the same corridor. The room was still there, only Y/N was on the floor, bound by chains to four rings in the concrete, her chin held low to the floor and her knees tucked underneath her stomach. Her back was covered in vicious looking welts, possibly from a whip, and Dean fought the urge to vomit. He hadn’t seen any scars on her, but then, he’d only really seen her from the front.

What had they done to her?

Forrest appeared, with another Alpha, just outside of Y/N’s sight, but she most likely could hear him. If this was her memory, then she knew what he was saying.

“She remains obstinate, untouched. She’s wounded four Alphas, and no amount of beatings or whippings is getting the insolence out of her,” the Alpha was explaining, as Forrest watched him, arms crossed over his chest. “She’s in heat now. Maybe she’ll be a little more receptive.”

“Hmmm,” Forrest murmured, scratching at his chin absently. “Maybe. Send Jackson in there. He’s good at getting the stubborn ones to submit.” The Alpha nodded and walked away, and Forrest stepped into the view of the door. Y/N strained her neck to look up at him, and Dean saw the state she was in. Her face was bruised, one eye swollen with purple and yellow, and there was blood on her lips. “You are very willful,” Forrest commented, and Dean wished he’d put a bullet between the fucker’s eyes.

Y/N spat blood onto the floor, grinning at him with crimson stained teeth. She was in heat, Dean could see that much, but he wasn’t scenting her like he normally did. Maybe because it was a memory, because it wasn’t technically  _ real _ , but he found himself missing that tactile sensation of her filling his head with her scent.

“This will not serve you in the long run, Twenty,” Forrest warned. “I don’t like training Omegas when they are in heat, but you have been with us for six months, and you need to submit, or you cannot be sold.”

“You’re not getting shit out of me,” she snarled, and he smirked, shaking his head.

“We’ll see.” Forrest crouched down, keeping his distance from her, and Dean watched as she strained at the bindings. “I doubt you’ll be able to resist an Alpha when you’re in heat, sweetheart. It’s not how I like to do it; I don’t normally let my boys knot the Omegas… but you’re a special case.”

Y/N grit her teeth, snarling at him. She was like a wild beast, and goddamn, if it didn’t make Dean love her that little bit more.

The other Alpha returned, with another, and Forrest stood, turning away and walking out of the room. Y/N watched warily, as the new Alpha, Jackson, looked her over, before nodding at his companion. They were left alone, and Dean’s stomach churned at the thought of what could happen.

Jackson walked around her, inspecting her, palming himself through his pants. Dean’s eyes narrowed, and he pushed one hand against the wall, wishing he could stop what was going to happen. The Alpha bent, running his hand along her back, tracing her spine until he reached her ass, cupping one cheek with his large hand.

She hissed, bucking him off, and Jackson laughed. “I see what they mean. You’re a spunky little one.” He leaned in close, fisting the braid of her hair and pulling her head backwards. “Bet you’ll feel differently when my knot’s filling you up.”

“I’m gonna kill you,” Y/N replied, her voice full of malice.

“Darlin’, you’re gonna be begging for me. Never met an Omega bitch I couldn’t break.” He dropped her and she let her head fall with a grunt, her body tensing as he slipped one hand between her legs. “Already slick for me, baby?”

She squirmed, snapping her jaw at the air, trying to get away from him. “Get off!” she shouted, but the Alpha only laughed, walking on his knees to position himself behind her. Y/N bucked and howled, thrashing against her bindings, and Dean saw one of the chains slip loose.

Jackson was unzipping his pants, freeing his thick cock from its confines, and Dean thought he might vomit if he had to watch what he thought was going to happen. The Alpha had his hand on her ass, trying to hold her still, struggling to line himself up.

“No!” Y/N screeched, dragging her arm back so hard, the chain snapped, and her hand came free. She reared back, twisting in the restraints, landing her foot on the Alpha’s exposed balls and he screamed, falling backwards. The infuriated Omega yanked at her other arm, crying out as her slim wrist slipped through, taking a generous few layers of skin with it, and blood spilled down her arm.

She didn’t seem to notice the pain as she got to her feet, standing over the Alpha who was cupping his balls and whimpering at the pain. Dean stared, captivated by his bloody, almost scary looking Omega, as she drew herself up to her full height. Her hand twirled the chain around her undamaged wrist, and she pulled back her fist, pounding her knuckles into Jackson’s face.

The scene twisted and faded, giving Dean that dizzy, tumbling feeling again, and this time, he was somewhere new. Everything around him was moving faster, and he frowned, seeing different images of Y/N, clothed now, helping other Omegas, looking more and more beaten down as she aged before him.

“You’re here? Are you real?”

Her voice made him turn, and Dean looked into her wide eyes, seeing the torment there. She was as he had last seen her, and with overwhelming relief, her scent filled his nose, making him draw in a long breath. 

“I’m here,” he replied, reaching out to her, finding her solid and whole in front of him. “And I’m real. You… I saw…”

She shrugged, looking away from him. “I don’t know why I keep replaying it. I think… a part of me thought you should have left me behind? The things I’ve done…”

Dean shook his head, pulling her flush against him, cutting off her speech and ignoring the mirror images of her around them, flashing by like a montage. “No,” he whispered. “It doesn’t matter. You’re with me now, I don’t… I just wish I could back and save you from all of this.”

Y/N tilted her head up, looking into his eyes fully, not wavering, and Dean felt his chest tighten at the lack of fear, of worry. She wasn’t scared of him anymore.

“You did. This…” she gestured to her echoes all around her, “this doesn’t matter to me anymore. All that matters… is you.”

*****

There was silence in the bedroom, except for the soft breathing of the two humans on the bed. Castiel sat cross legged on the chair, keeping his eyes fixed on them, on edge for any change. He could feel something different in the air, but wasn’t sure exactly what it was that was causing it. Y/N’s heart rate was steadier than it had been before, and he was sure her fever was dipping.

The air crackled, and the angel tensed, his back straightening as the temperature in the room dropped. He slowly unfolded his legs, getting to his feet as he turned to look at the open door. The lights dimmed and fizzled, before coming back on brightly enough to make him cover his eyes.

“Cas?”

Sam was in the doorway, and the entire world felt like it was shaking, vibrating, and Castiel recognized the feeling in his stomach as nausea. He stumbled, holding his hands out for stability, as Sam flicked in and out, like a television that couldn’t get signal. The room changed and fluctuated, and Cas tried to suck in a lungful of air.

A force collided with him, sending him flying across the room and he felt everything slow as he waited for his back to hit the wall. But he didn’t stop, almost like he was being banished by a sigil.

And then his eyes opened, and he was looking at the ceiling of his room. His vessel felt heavy, weakened, like he’d been still for a long time.

“Cas?” Sam’s voice again, and it prompted the angel to try and sit up, groaning at the foreign feeling of all his pieces drawing back together. The younger Winchester brother appeared at the side of what Castiel recognized now as his own bed. But everything was different, like jigsaw puzzle pieces slotting together, two worlds melding into one singular entity.

“S-Sam?” His throat was hoarse, and his voice thicker than usual, and he struggled to swing his legs over the side of the bed. “I don’t -”

“We do,” the other man responded, cutting off his query, concern written all over his face. “It’s a witch.”

Cas frowned, shaking his head, confusion still clouding his mind as he tried to remember everything that had happened in the last ten years. “A witch?”

Sam nodded, holding out a hand and placing it on Cas’ shoulder as he got to his feet. “Whatever spell she had on this place, on us, it’s failing. Dean and Y/N are asleep next door, but I can’t wake them. Is it the dream root?”

“Yes. Dean went into her subconscious in an effort to…” He swallowed through the dryness in his throat. “You can see them?”

“There was blood on the walls,” Sam muttered, looking towards the door as Kevin appeared. “Words written in archaic Latin. We translated it, and it’s a warning.”

“A warning for what?” Cas asked, looking between the two men.

Kevin swallowed audibly, before speaking up. “That we’re all going to die.”


	17. Part Seventeen

“She’s letting me have this,” you spoke quietly, keeping your eyes on the field in front of you. You and Dean were perched on a picnic bench, the sun beating down on you both. It was a familiar setting, or it would have been, ten years ago. This field was a place you’d spent a lot of your childhood, playing juvenile games, having picnics and wasting away the summer.

“She?” Dean asked, and you smiled over at him.

“I don’t know who she is. I saw her, in the road. At least, it looked like a her,” you sighed, tilting your chin upwards, closing your eyes to savor the heat of the sun on your skin. “I don’t think she knows you’re here.”

He didn’t answer, but he leaned into you the smallest amount. For a few moments, you remained together, not speaking, just enjoying the summer sun. You could ask the obvious question, of  _ how _ he was even with you, but you were too grateful for his presence, his  _ scent _ , comforting you, to care.

“Can I show you where I lived?” you asked, opening your eyes to look at the Alpha beside you. It was odd, how calm you felt, knowing all of this strangeness wasn’t real, that everything you could see was destroyed or is nothing like it was. On the outside, in reality, you were dying. You could feel that, in some small part of your mind; the fever, the heat, the pain, it was all there but you were calmly at peace with it.

Dean was here, and that was all you really needed, you realized.

“Yeah,” he exhaled, and you stood, jumping to your feet on the soft grass, taking his hand. He willingly followed, keeping close to you, threading your fingers together as you led him away from the bench. There was no one else around as you walked, and it was eerily quiet, nothing like the town you’d known. The streets were silent, abandoned, and you wondered if this was really how it looked, now, at the end.

“I went to school there,” you whispered, pointing at the large red stone building across the street, and Dean nodded in acknowledgement. “Never graduated.”

“Neither did I,” he commented, smiling, and you smiled back.

“Something else we have in common.”

He gave a little chuckle, and you continued to walk, crossing three more blocks in silence, Dean’s fingers holding tightly to yours. Turning onto your street, your grip on his loosened at the sight of your childhood home - the only house you’d ever lived in.

It looked just like you remembered it; the white wood panelling and blue trim around the windows, the porch screen door unlocked like your mom always left it. The gold painted wooden mail box that had belonged to your grandfather, still there in the front yard, close to the green fence that you’d spent many afternoon lounging on with your friends.

You came to a stop, looking up at the house with your heart in your throat. Was this a product of your memories or was it how the house still looked? It was hard to imagine the white paint wouldn’t have flaked or peeled by now, without proper care. The lawn was cut down, perfectly kept, and you knew, this was how your home would always look in your head.

“It’s nice,” Dean murmured, pulling you close into his hold. You were tense in his arms, and you slowly dragged yourself away, pushing open the gate onto the yard, hearing the familiar squeak of the iron hinges. Dean followed you, keeping close on your heel as you crossed the stone path up to the front door.

It was unlocked, just like it always was on the days you were due home from school. For a moment, you expected to see your mom in the kitchen, drinking her strong coffee, with your brother at the island bench, doing his homework or playing on his Gameboy. But it was empty, and your footsteps landed on the cold linoleum, your eyes tracing the beams of sunlight as they shone through the window onto the pristine countertops.

You ran your fingers over the faux marble, sighing heavily at the memories of shared meals, play fights with your brother, midnight feasts during sleepovers with all your girlfriends. It hurt to remember them, but at the same time, it brought a smile to your face to recall the happier times.

“I’ll never have this again.”

The softly spoken words made Dean draw closer, his hands slipping around your upper arms to turn you towards him. “Maybe not this exact thing,” he said, dipping his head to catch your eyes. “But I’m gonna give you everything I can.”

A dry laugh left your lips, and you looked up at him, shaking your head. “Dean, I’m dying. I can feel it, right here,” you paused, covering your belly with one hand. “This is just a reprieve. Just a memory. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

His face was expressionless for a few seconds, before he cupped your cheek and leaned in, pressing his lips to yours delicately. Shock prevented you from reacting for a few seconds, before you melted into him, moaning into his mouth as his fingers skimmed up to thread through your hair. It was nothing like the sloppy high school kisses you’d had; Dean’s touch was tender, measured, and you responded the best you knew how, hoping you didn’t disappoint him.

When his lips left yours, you were breathing heavily, cheeks flushed and eyes filled with lust as you looked up at him. Dean smirked, pushing hair out of your face. “Feels real to me,” he whispered, the smile not leaving his face. 

“What are you doing?” you asked, unable to tear your eyes away from his face. Up close, you could see the smattering of freckles across his nose, spreading out over his cheeks. He didn’t look his age, not really - you never would have guessed he was forty-four, never would have guessed at the life he’d lived. Sure, there were wrinkles, crows feet, laughter lines, and the cutest crease on his forehead where he spent too much time frowning; he’d lived. And you wished you could have that all to yourself, wake up next to that face every morning, have him kiss you the way he just did all the time.

You felt tears prickle at the back of your eyes as you contemplated your lack of future.

“Wanna make you mine,” Dean replied, his voice husky as he run his thumbs over your cheeks, his lips inches from yours. “ _ My _ Omega.”

The whine that spilled from your lips was needy and desolate all in one, and you dropped your head into the space between his chin and his chest, clinging to his shirt. “I know you think that will save me, Dean, but this isn’t  _ real _ .”

“I don’t care,” he replied, one hand on the back of your head, the other around your waist, holding you flush against his hard body. His voice was muffled as he pressed his face into your hair, squeezing his eyes shut. “It’s a chance, and if it’s the only chance I have to keep you by my side…” He trailed off, kissing your head, and inhaling sharply. “I wish I hadn’t been such a jackass.”

You gave a sad little giggle, feeling the tears escape your eyes. “You were scared. I was too.”

“Then we’re both idiots.” His fingers were in your hair now, and he tugged you backwards, his pupils blown with lust as he looked down at you. “Can I be your Alpha, Y/N?”

The prospect was almost too much to deal with. You’d never wanted to be mated to anyone, and in the space of a few weeks, you’d gone from a prisoner to a liberated Omega with a  _ choice _ . And Dean would honor whatever you wanted - you knew that in your heart. If you said no, he’d sit with you until you faded away, no matter how much it broke him.

This was your only chance to feel the love you’d dreamed about as a little girl. Dean might be off kilter for a Prince Charming, but he was definitely your knight in shining armor. He’d saved you, and you’d saved him. At least after this, maybe he’d have his brother back.

You’d healed his heart a little at least.

“Dean…” He sucked in a breath, nodding, pressing your foreheads together, and you reached up, taking his hand in yours. “Come with me,” you requested, pulling away and taking him with you. He didn’t fight against your hold, letting you lead him through the kitchen and towards the stairs.

Your bedroom was exactly as you remembered it - you’d been neck deep in your Harry Potter obsession when the world ended, as was signified by the huge Gryffindor poster on the cream colored wall. On the desk, your homework was scattered across the surface, the corner of your Macbook peeking out from underneath the papers. Photos of you and your friends were on another wall, lots of smiling faces and moments you’d forgotten until now.

“I was expecting pink,” Dean quipped, pulling you close. “I didn’t realize I was in love with a Potterhead.” You blinked, his statement taking you by surprise even more than the kiss had in the kitchen. His eyes widened as he realized what he’d said. “I mean, you never struck me as a girly girl anyway,” he rambled quickly.

You weren’t sure what to say and for a few seconds, there was a silence filled with tension between as you stood in your childhood bedroom. Dean’s eyes didn’t break away from yours, and you squeezed his fingers, stepping closer to him.

“I… I love you too,” you whispered, pushing up onto tiptoes to kiss him lightly. The tension seeped from his body as he relaxed into your touch, releasing your hand to grip your waist. “Dean,” you gasped, breaking away from him. “ _ Alpha _ …”

There was a rumble deep in his chest, and he kissed you again, this time more forcefully, and you whined, fingers clutching at his shirt. His hands dragged over your shirt, tugging it upwards as you reciprocated the actions on his, both of you scrambling to undress the other. There was suddenly too much between you, and you  _ needed _ to feel his bare skin on yours.

“ _ Mine _ ,” Dean snarled, nipping at your jaw, down your neck and you arched in his hold. He unhooked your bra, dragging the straps down your arms, discarding the material to the floor with your shirt and his. His belt buckle was in your hands, and you made quick work of it, pushing his pants down his legs, giving a feminine groan as he hoisted you up in his arms, carrying you to the bed. There was a wobble in his movement as he discarded his shoes and pants on the way, his hands holding you firmly in his grip.

The covers and throw pillows were consigned to the floor as Dean laid you down, kissing a path down between the valley of your breasts until he reached the waistband of your pants. You giggled as he caught your ticklish spots, making him chuckle in response to your reaction. He pulled down your pants and underwear, taking your shoes off with them, before crawling onto the bed between your legs.

“Dean -”

He stopped, his arms either side of your abdomen, his body held above yours, and you bit your lip hard, feeling the evidence of his arousal nudge against your inner thigh. “What’s wrong?” 

“I’ve… I’ve never -” Heat flushed through your skin at the embarrassment of what you wanted to say but didn’t dare. Would he think less of you if you didn’t know what to do?

“Never?”

“I mean, I’ve had… like, regular sex. But I’ve never… will it hurt?” Your voice was meek, and Dean’s face went from a frown to a smile quickly. It occurred to you then how stupid you sounded - none of this was technically real, despite how it felt.

“I’m never gonna hurt you, sweetheart,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss you again, wiping away your traitorous thoughts. “I promise, I’ll go slow.” He gave you a smile that seemed to reflect the one in the photo he’d shown you in his room, and you couldn’t help but smile back. “God, you’re so beautiful.” You could feel yourself blushing, and you squeaked as he slid back down, propping himself between your legs.

“What are you doing?” you asked, squirming as his hands trailed up your thighs.

He raised his eyebrows, giving you a grin that was cheeky and seductive at the same time. “What do you think I’m doing?” he asked, before dipping his head to stroke his tongue across your folds. You arched at the new sensation, gasping as he did it again, the deep moan that left him almost vibrating through your entire body. “Fuck, smell so good, Omega.”

The title had you shaking, and you held onto the sheets as Dean lapped at your pussy, pushing his tongue into your most intimate spots. You couldn’t stop your eyes falling shut as pleasure thrummed through you, and when he sucked your clit into his mouth, you were lost in a sea of stars behind your eyelids. 

He didn’t seem to want to come up for air, even when your climax was reduced to shuddering aftershocks that had your hips jerking in his hold. His tongue swept up the slick that coated your thighs, and the noises he made were enough to make a porn star blush. Dean ate you out like you were the best meal he’d ever had in his life, and you realized that if you were going to die today, at least you’d died after the most intense orgasm you had ever experienced.

“Look at you,” he muttered, raising his head, his lips shining with your juices. He was still wearing that cocky grin, and you opened your eyes, lifting yourself up on your elbows to look down at him - just as he slid a single digit into your pussy. Your mouth formed a little “o”, and you dropped back down, earning a chuckle from the Alpha between your thighs. “Open up for me, baby,” he urged, hauling himself up your body a little more, adding a second fingers as his lips closed around one erect nipple.

The combination of sensations made you whimper, and Dean increased the pressure of his fingers, sliding them in and out of you at an agonisingly slow pace. He dragged across a sweet spot on every pass, and you felt something akin to a coil tightening in your belly every time he did it. “That feels…” you gasped, unable to come up with words apt enough to describe it.

Dean’s eyes flickered up from where he was tonguing your nipple, releasing it with a soft wet noise. “Tell me.”

You were panting through your words, feeling like you were about to lose all control. “Feels hot… all over… but like… God, I don’t know…” you grunted in irritation at your own lack of vernacular. Dean laughed under his breath, straining his neck to reach your other breast. He traced his tongue around the areola, and you felt the bud stiffen under his touch.

“Come on,” he whispered, before covering the peak of your breast with his mouth, and you cried out, feeling his fingers push deeper into you, his thumb flicking over your clit, not quite applying enough pressure to tip you over.

“Dean…” you mewled. “Feels like I’m on an edge,” he looked at you again, keeping his mouth on your breast, and you chanced a look at him, feeling renewed shame color your cheeks at the sight of him. “It feels… feels like it’s supposed to hurt but I want more -” He grinned around your nipple, grazing the skin with his teeth, and you whined loudly.

“Let go, sweetheart,” he ordered, pulling back from your breasts, leaning on one elbow as his fingers kept working into you. “Let me feel that sweet little pussy around my fingers.” You nodded, biting your lip so hard you thought you might draw blood. Dean just watched, mouth slack, eyes filled with lust, his hot breath fanning over your skin as he worked you towards completion.

And then it hit. Like a wave of calm over you, before your entire body tensed and you had to fight the urge to close your thighs together to fight the feeling. Your pussy tightened, clenching around Dean’s fingers, and he pressed his thumb into your clit, sealing the deal. You wailed in bliss as everything became too bright, too much, and then…

Your body went lax. The only sound was your heavy breathing, and Dean’s satisfied little chuckle as he slowly withdrew his fingers from your body. “What that good?” he asked, and you summoned the energy to give him a dry look.

“You know it was,” you retorted, lifting a boneless arm to slap his shoulder playfully.

“Move onto your side.” You did as he asked, the effort of crawling up the bed making you grunt a little. Dean moved, settling behind you, his thick cock bouncing against your bare ass. “It’ll be easier like this,” he whispered, peppering kisses along your shoulder. “I’ll go slow,” he promised again. His hand slipped underneath your right thigh, moving down to cup the back of your knee, lifting your leg slowly. “Just tell me if you want me to stop, if you need -”

“All I need is you,” you replied, interrupting him, and he groaned at the announcement. “Alpha, please -” It was the natural conclusion to what you’d started, and you found yourself craving that feeling, of having him inside you. Sex had never felt like this, and after ten years in that place, you’d never found yourself imagining this entirely new concept. Belonging to each other… it just seemed like the way it was supposed to be now.

You just had to try to not think about what came after.

His cock was hot and heavy as it slid against your folds, and both of you moaned in tandem, Dean’s fingers flexing against the soft flesh of your leg. You could feel your body twitching, greedy with want for him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be ashamed of that feeling. A pleading mewl left your lips, and Dean nodded at the wordless request, shifting his hips and balancing your leg on his forearm so he could reach down between your thighs. He gripped the thick shaft of his cock, sliding the tip into your soaked hole.

You felt like your brain was going to white out as he slowly entered you, his body shuddering against yours in the effort of holding himself back. His breath was hot against your neck, and as his hips came flush with your ass, he dropped his forehead against the back of your head, groaning deeply. He returned his hand to your leg, holding it in place as he allowed you to adjust to the stretch of his length.

“That okay?” he asked, his voice absolutely wrecked, his breath fanning over your skin. You opened your mouth to answer, but for a second, you completely forgot how to speak, letting a high-pitched whimper convey your feelings. Dean’s low rumble of a growl vibrated through from his chest to your spine, transforming into a shiver that travelled the length of your body.

Then he started to move.

His strokes were drawn out, deliberate, creating every spark of friction between your bodies possible. You reached back, sliding your free hand down over his hip, feeling the ripple of his muscles as he moved against you, and Dean pulled your leg over his thigh, forcing your body to turn a little to accommodate the movement.

“Dean!” you gasped, arching your head back into the pillows underneath, and Dean grunted in return, holding your leg against his thigh as his thrusts grew stronger. The knot at the base of his cock was already thickening, pressing into you with every stroke, and you whined loudly, needing to feel that fullness of him.

He made a primal sound as your pussy clenched around him, his fingers digging into your thigh, adding a spark of pain to the already heightened sensations you were feeling. Blunt teeth scraped against your throat, and his hand moved away from your leg, trusting you to stay where he had you. His thick fingers covered your breast, alternating between squeezing the soft mound and rolling your nipples between his finger and thumb.

“So perfect,” he growled, making you shudder at the closeness of his mouth to your ear. “So tight, wet, beautiful. My Omega,  _ my _ sweet Omega -” he cut off, nipping at your neck again, and you cried out, pushing back against him.

“Alpha…”

The mewl made him bite harder, and his cock twitched, his knot swelling enough that you could feel it, feel the stretch as your cunt tried to accommodate him. Need curled in your belly, made you feel like you couldn’t breathe without the feel of him, and your hand tightened on his hip, pulling him closer.

“Gonna knot you, sweetheart,” Dean snarled, dropping his hand down to the apex of your thighs, stroking at your swollen clitoris. You jerked in his hold, bucking against him, crying out over and over. “Fuck, come for me, Omega. Come for me -” his words became muffled and distorted against your skin. His hips slammed into you, and you felt his knot push into your body, locking you together as your climax washed over you. 

There wasn’t an ounce of pain as he bit you, marked you as his - quite the opposite. A peaceful sense of belonging accompanied pure pleasure and warmth, like for that moment the only things that existed in the whole world was just you and him.

When you opened your eyes again, Dean was still against you, still inside you. His breathing was slow and even, and you could feel the fluttering kiss of his eyelashes against your neck, just above where’d he laid his claim on you.

You’d never felt so…  _ whole _ .

You’d never felt so hopeless, either.

“Dean -” you started, feeling wetness drop onto your skin from him. “I -”

“Don’t,” he whispered, cutting you off. “Can we just pretend for a minute?”

You sucked in a breath, nodding at his request. After everything you’d both been through, you deserved a little peace, right?


	18. Part Eighteen

A high pitched scream woke him from the spell-induced sleep, and he sat up, covering his ears to block it out. It lasted a few seconds and stopped, allowing him to open his eyes. Sam was crouched next to the bed, his hands over his ears, as Kevin cowered in the doorway doing the same.

Dean blinked, relief overwhelming him as he stared as his brother, unsure if he could trust what he was seeing.

“Sam…” he whispered, bracing his hands against the mattress. Sam slowly uncovered his head, looking up, eyes going wide as he realized Dean wasn’t touching Y/N at all. The elder Winchester climbed off of the bed, walking around to stand less than a foot away, staring at his little brother like he’d seen a ghost.

“Dean…” Sam’s voice was barely audible, and then he was hugging him, his hold so tight that Dean felt like he couldn’t breathe but he didn’t care; his brother was here, and whole, and  _ alive _ .

“This is real, right?” Dean asked, blinking away tears as he clung to Sam, not willing to let go in case he disappeared again. “I’m not still dreaming or…”

“It’s real,” Sam replied, giving a half-laugh, half-sob, nodding against his brother’s shoulder. He pulled back, his hands still holding onto Dean, smiling widely at him with wet eyes. “You’re alive!”

Dean nodded, his own smile almost hurting his face as he looked over at Kevin. The smaller man had aged, obviously, but still looked like the young student they’d pulled into their crazy lives all those years ago. Dean pulled away from Sam, shocking Kevin by dragging him into an embrace. “It’s damn good to see you, kid.”

“Y-you too, Dean,” Kevin muttered, looking at Sam over Dean’s shoulder. “I’m still not quite clear on how, but -”

“The witch,” Castiel announced, sweeping into the room, a glare on his face. “She separated you. You were in the same place all these years, but unable to exist within the same spatial reality.”

Dean released Kevin, who straightened his shirt, clearing his throat. “I’m gonna pretend I know what that means,” the older hunter said, frowning, before looking back to the bed. “But if we’ve broken the spell, why is she…”

Cas pushed past him, approaching the bed and placing his hand over Y/N’s forehead. “Her heat is fading. Your plan worked.”

“She’s not awake,” Dean stated bluntly.

“Maybe she needs time to recover,” Sam suggested. “She had a pretty high fever. It might have caused some damage.” He looked at Cas, who was frowning down at Y/N’s still form.

“She is perfectly healed. There is nothing to -”

“Then why isn’t she awake?” Dean asked again, a growl in his voice. “She should be awake. I claimed her. She’s out of her heat. She shouldn’t be -”

“We have no way of knowing if the claim will exist anywhere but in her head, Dean,” Castiel interrupted, turning to face him. “She could wake up any moment.” He looked around. “We still have a witch to deal with. Her spell is broken, but she is by no means dead. And when she incapacitated me, she did so because she  _ couldn’t _ kill me. She wasn’t strong enough then.”

Sam’s brow furrowed, and he ran a hand through his hair. “And if she’s strong enough now…”

“Her message seems a little more threatening,” Kevin finished, looking a little panicked. “So, she’s biding her time?”

“She’s building her power,” Dean snarled, shaking his head. “I’ve got some witch-killing bullets in the armory. We can gank the bitch before she’s got enough juice to return the favor.” He moved towards the door, before pausing and looking back. “Sam?”

“I’m coming.”

Dean turned his eyes to Kevin. “Kevin, stay with Y/N. Yell if she wakes up, got it?” The younger man nodded, ducking away towards the bed. Sam gave him a weak smile and a pat on the shoulder, before following Dean out of the door. 

Kevin glanced up at Castiel. “She seems a little pale,” he commented, jerking his head in Y/N’s direction. Cas’ mouth was a thin line, his face betraying little emotion as he stared at the open door, and Kevin dropped his gaze, sighing heavily. “Well, you’re still just as talkative.”

“Watch her,” Cas barked, before disappearing with a flutter of wings.

*****

You stirred slowly, stretching out your legs as your body woke, a dreamy smile on your face. Throwing your arm out, you expected to find Dean beside you, comfortable in your bed in the bunker, but when you opened your eyes, you found yourself alone.

And still in your childhood bedroom.

Only now, it was changed. The walls were dirty and peeling, posters crumpled and torn on the floor. Your personal belongings were either gone, or broken on the moth-eaten carpet, and the window that you’d spent hours at was broken, ivy crawling through the shattered glass.

Sitting up, you realised you were no longer nude; you were dressed in jeans, a faded Powerpuff Girls t-shirt and the sneakers you remembered your mom buying you for your birthday. Only, you’d lost those sneakers in the woods, fighting against Alphas intent on taking you.

“She awakens.”

The disembodied voice made you turn, and you frowned at the darkness of the room. A figure glided out from the doorway, and you followed it’s movement with your eyes, watching as it passed your desk and closet, pausing at your dresser to pick up a stuffed puppy that had seen far better days.

“I think it looks better now,” the voice whispered, becoming more obviously feminine.

“Who are you?” you whispered, not moving from your spot on the bed.

“It was a clever plan,” the voice said, and the darkness seemed to suck itself inwards, the figure becoming more than a blur. It was a woman, tall and pale, with delicate features. She smiled at you, but it wasn’t a friendly expression; it looked more like a ravenous beast, intent on devouring you. “I didn’t think it would work, but it did. Your Alpha claimed you, and took the final part of the wall down.” She came a little closer, and you drew your knees up, feeling the headboard behind you as you backed away. “Sweet little Omega, who ruined all my plans.”

“I - I didn’t mean to -” you stuttered, and the woman laughed, throwing her head back. The sound was harsh and unkind to hear, sending fear spiralling through you.

“You didn’t mean to? Oh, sweet child. You were so intent on fixing that stupid hunter, of course you meant to.”

You blinked, shaking your head, your jaw slack as you watched her at the end of your bed. It was a scene you’d seen played before in horror movies, and you knew that she was going to kill you.

“I am,” she confirmed, smiling again, her dark eyes glittering. You could see more distinct features on her face now; blue veins seemed to pulse and crawl across her white skin, and her eyes were nothing but pools of black. “I spent so long making them suffer. And then you, little Omega, little  _ girl _ \- you had to come along and find him. Give him hope. Put that spark back when I did so much to extinguish it.”

Your heart thumped in your chest, and you sucked in a breath as she narrowed her eyes.

“And now,” she whispered, leaning forward and placing her hands on the foot of your bed. Black tendrils crept out of her pointed fingertips, disintegrating the mattress as it crawled closer to you. “Now, you’re going to help me kill them.”

*****

“You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

Sam’s comment made Dean stop and look up, one eyebrow raised. He didn’t reply for a few moment, simply watching Sam as Sam watched him back. His younger brother had changed so much, and yet, he seemed exactly the same. Long hair, slight scruff - he was leaner than he had been, but still looked like the gangly teen Dean had teased for not growing into his arms and legs.

“I just woke up from a nap,” Dean retorted, giving his brother a wry smile. “But yeah, I don’t sleep so good.”

“Me either,” Sam confessed. “It’s been a long ten years, huh?”

The laugh that Dean barked was filled with more humor than he’d felt since he thought he’d lost Sam. “You could say that,” he replied, standing straight with his prize in his hands. The case of witch bullets was full to the brim; he hadn’t faced one of them in years. “How did it happen for you?” he asked, and Sam sucked in a breath.

“I remember the church, the trials, the angels falling. But I couldn’t… I couldn’t quite place anything after that. When I woke up, it was in time to see some angel burn your eyes out. You were dead before I could even react.” Sam’s voice wobbled as he spoke, the grief still evident even though it had been proven untrue.

Dean nodded, looking down at the case in his hands. “I got you to the hospital. Tried to save you. Angels came… you died while I was trying to keep you safe.”

Silence stretched between them, broken only by Sam’s sigh. “All this time, she made us see those things. And we were in the same place, all along.” He pursed his lips, shaking his head. “Powerful magic.”

“I was so done without you, man,” Dean admitted, not meeting Sam’s eyes. “I was just… going through the motions. Hunting, surviving. Even Cas…”

“Cas was in a coma in our world,” Sam interjected. “We think that’s what made him a little crazy on your end.” 

Dean sniffed, making a noise in his throat as he reached to pick up his gun from the shelf. “Makes sense.” He turned towards the door, feeling Sam close on his heels. “I can’t believe this is happening. That it happened. If Y/N hadn’t come to live here…”

Sam shut the door to the armory behind them, frowning at Dean’s back. “How did you meet her? She said she was in the Omega trade -”

“Saved her, actually,” Dean replied. “She was in a compound up in Washington State. Kept as a slave by some douchebag Alpha overlord type. I did a job for him, cleared out a vamps nest, and he… I bought her from him.”

“You bought her?”

Dean shrugged. “Seemed like the right thing to do. She was… feisty. Not broken like the others. But I’ve seen some of the things they did to her… were going to do to her.” He felt a little prideful that she’d fought so hard, that she’d been brave enough to show him her memories. “She never stopped fighting.”

Sam smiled a little, following his brother as he walked into the library and placed the bullet case on the table. “She was meant to be yours?”

There was hesitation as Dean thought about the statement, before shaking his head, recalling Sam’s penchant for believing in true mates, unlike him. “I don’t think she was meant to be mine. I don’t even deserve someone like her,” he admitted. “But… she’s here, and she gave you back to me. I guess… she was meant to be here at least. Meant to be with us.”

“You love her.” It wasn’t a question, and it made Dean’s head snap up to look at his brother. A wide grin covered Sam’s face, and Dean rolled his eyes at him. “You don’t have to say it to me. Ten years and death, and I can still read you like a book, Dude.”

Dean’s lips twitched, and he shrugged, knowing the truth in his own heart, but not wanting to spoil it by saying it out loud. He jumped as Sam clapped him on the back with one large palm, his chuckle echoing around the empty library.

“Whatever you think about not deserving her, Dean, I can tell you, you do.”

“You’re not jealous?” 

A laugh fell from Sam’s lips, and Dean didn’t realize just how much he’d missed his baby brother in all those long years. He smiled, looking down as he unpacked the bullets and loaded his gun. “Dean, I’m not jealous. I’m happy. I got my brother back.”

The smile didn’t fade from Dean’s face as he kept looking at the younger man, nodding in agreement. “Yeah. Yeah, me too.”


	19. Part Nineteen

“Your hair got seriously long, Sammy.”

“Yours isn’t exactly the short back and sides you always sported,” Sam replied, nudging Dean with his elbow as they walked down the corridor back to the bedrooms, witch bullets in tow. “I mean, I get how you didn’t have anyone to look after you -”

Dean levelled him with a playful glare as his brother smirked, carding his hand through his still short locks. He had let the top grow out a little, but he’d always hate the way it would fall in his face. “At least I’m not sporting the man scruff. Did your razor stop working?” he teased, making Sam bark a short laugh.

“No. Just… world ended. Personal grooming wasn’t on my list of priorities. Haven’t bothered with it for a couple of weeks.” He raised an eyebrow in Dean’s direction. “I can’t imagine how you’ve coped without burgers and beer.”

“I have beer,” Dean defended, scowling. “Do miss burgers though.” He paused, chewing the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. “Speaking of, I hope whatever the magic is, it hasn’t wiped my kitchen supplies from existence. I mean, which one of our realities are we in? Cas’ room hasn’t gotten any of his crazy scribbling but my room looks exactly the same.”

Sam nodded, coming to a halt near Dean’s open bedroom door. “I guess, once we’ve figured this all out and killed the witch, we can take stock of everything? I know that ratty old couch in the library isn’t something I’d choose for interior decorating.”

Dean huffed, pushing past him into the bedroom, where Y/N still lay, Castiel at her side. “Yeah, because you’re a regular Vern Yip.” He ignored Sam’s question of “who”, moving across the room to stand by the chair Cas was occupying. The angel was staring intently at the unconscious Omega, and Dean frowned, slipping his fingers into her hand, squeezing gently.

Her skin was cool to the touch, which concerned him even more, and he dragged his eyes to Cas, who looked forlorn as he stared back.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked, lingering behind them.

“She’s still asleep,” Dean muttered. “She should be awake. I can feel her.” His voice dissipated into a choked whisper and he cleared his throat, stroking her hand with his thumb. “The bond is there. Her heats broken. She should -” His worried expression deepened. “Cas -”

“She is being held under. Whatever dark force I sensed in her, the witch’s power… something is happening to slowly drain her of her life,” the angel sounded defeated. “I attempted to penetrate her mind, but the witch, she has powers that continue to strengthen. If we do not wake Y/N soon -”

“You’re telling me after everything, the witch has her trapped in her head?” Dean snarled, anger rising in him. The connection he felt to his Omega was new, fresh, and left him reeling with possessiveness and an urge to protect his mate. Castiel sensed this, standing and backing away. “What do we do?”

The angel shook his head, holding his hands up. “I am not strong enough. Being split between two worlds has tainted my grace, no doubt the witch’s intention. I need time to recuperate, time I fear we do not have.”

Sam reached out, placing his hand on Cas’ shoulder. “How much time do we have?”

“I cannot be certain.”

Dean tore his gaze away from Cas, sinking to his knees beside the bed, still clinging to her cool fingers. “Come on, Baby. We can’t let this defeat us. We gotta fight.” He closed his eyes, hoping against hope that she could feel him, feel the new bond between them.

“Is there anything else we can do?” Sam asked, and Castiel turned to him, raising his shoulders the barest amount in a shrug. “A spell, something to draw her out -”

“It is possible,” the angel acquiesced.

“We can check the lore.” The younger Winchester’s mouth set into a thin line, determined to do whatever he could to save the woman who had brought him and Dean back together, who’d saved both of them. He could see the effect she was having on his brother, despite all their years apart; he knew that she was his Omega, even if Dean didn’t believe it. “I’ll find something, Dean. I promise.”

Dean didn’t reply, his head bowed against the comforter of the bed, his fingers tightly clasped around Y/N’s. Sam watched for a second more, before nodding at Cas and leaving the room, heading for the library to find something to save her life.

“Sam will find something,” Cas offered, trying to reassure the shattered Alpha where he bent almost in prayer at his mate’s beside. Dean still didn’t speak out loud, but Castiel could practically hear his voice in his head, begging for her to be okay.

*****

“Mom?”

The whisper that left your lips was quiet enough to be whipped away by the breeze around you, and you froze on the path of your childhood home. After the witch’s ominous announcement, she’d disappeared, leaving you in your decaying room, the blackness she’d imprinted swallowing everything around you. You’d had no choice but to run.

At the end of the path, by the fence that was slowly rotting away, your mother stood. She was dressed as she had always been in your memories, in light pastel colours, sensible clothes, almost like the apocalypse hadn’t touched her.

Like she hadn’t died from the fever that had gripped her.

You took a hesitant step forward, your mind repeating that none of this was real, but it didn’t matter to your heart. Your mother held her arms out, a teary smile on her face and you broke into a run, throwing yourself into her embrace.

“My sweet girl,” she whispered, and you sobbed loudly, not registering the fact that this mirage had no warmth, no comfort in her arms - your ear was pressed to her chest but there was no heartbeat nor breath to speak of. “What have you done to yourself?”

Pulling back, you looked up at her, confusion on your face as she smiled without warmth. “What do you mean?”

She kept smiling, to the point that it was becoming creepy, and her fingers came up to brush hair away from your eyes, pushing it behind your ear. The touch was like the blackness the witch had set forth, and you shuddered under the image of your mother’s dead gaze.

“If I’d known you were an Omega,” she whispered, the smile never wavering. “I’d have sold you off to the highest bidder. To think I nurtured such a little bitch… giving herself up to the first Alpha that flashed you a pretty smile.”

You stepped back, horror and shock stabbing into your heart like the sharpest of knives, but your mom just kept smiling. “Y-you’re not real,” you stuttered, shaking your head, unable to turn your gaze away from her. She was still smiling, like the grin would swallow her face whole. “Mom…”

“ _ Mom _ ,” she mimicked, mocking you with a high pitched tone. “I should have known. Pathetic little wretch you are.”

“No -” you gasped, just as your mother started to laugh, the sound keening and ringing in your head. You clapped your hands over your ears, trying to block out the sound, just as thunder sang among the clouds. The noise increased, and the image of your mother seemed to explode outwards, spreading the dark of night through the mockery of your memories.

Your knees burst with pain as you sank heavily to the concrete, sobbing and holding your head as the laughter refused to subside. The grass on either side of you turned to ash, and when you finally looked up again, the image of your mom was gone, and the town you’d known so well was falling to pieces. In the distance, wolves howled, and the sky cracked open with lightning.

The only thing you could think to do was run.

*****

Kevin jumped up suddenly, making Sam jerk with surprise, looking up at the smaller man. “I’ve found something!” He passed the book to Sam, excitement on his face. “We might be able to draw her out, trap her!”

Sam scanned the page of the ancient tome Kevin had been studying, his eyebrows raising higher with each sentence. It was a simple ritual, devised by pre-Christian witch hunters, to capture witches in a circle similar to a devil’s trap.

He looked up, nodding with a smile. “This could work. At the very least, it will distract her. Maybe long enough to wake Y/N.” His eyes dropped to the book again, checking the ingredients. “I’m sure we’ve got most of this in our stores. We’ve definitely got Belladonna and  Wolfsbane.”

Kevin moved closer, looking over the list, frowning as he reached a certain item. “Sam, I don’t… I don’t think we’ve got any baby bones lying around.”

Sam’s cheeks reddened and he blinked before answering. “Actually -”

“That’s gross, dude,” Kevin pulled away, a disgusted expression on his face as Sam bit back a chuckle.

“What about virgin blood?” Sam muttered, raising his gaze to Kevin again, who took his turn with having red cheeks. “Really?”

Kevin’s blush turned to a glare. “I thought you would have noticed after ten years. The apocalypse isn’t exactly the spot for someone like me to pick up chicks.” Sam shrugged, looking back at the book, not wanting to point out that he’d had no problem.

“Crap.”

“What?”

“We need a fresh egg.”

“What?”

Sam shifted the book into his hand, marching around the table, using his index finger to point it out. “Freshly laid egg of a hen. Last I checked, we don’t have chickens.”

“I do,” Castiel announced, walking into the room with an odd look on his face. “They’re very good layers. And I checked on them earlier. They appear to have survived the union of our two worlds.”

Kevin cocked his head to the side, his hands on his hips in an indignant pose. “There’s no need to make it sound like Lord Of The Rings.”

The angel frowned. “I liked Lord Of The Rings.”

Sam cleared his throat, placing the book on the table and shaking his head. “Now isn’t the time for Tolkien. Cas, get that egg. Me and Kevin will check the inventory.” Cas didn’t move, and Sam’s face twisted with irritation. “Cas -”

“I cannot fly,” Castiel replied, stoic expression firmly in place, his eyes conveying his own worry. “Something is stopping me from leaving the bunker.”

“What?” Sam barked, a split second before there was a thundering click and a whirring sound that echoed through the building. The lights turned off, plunging them into darkness before everything was flooded with red light. “What the hell?”

“What’s happening?!” Kevin shrieked, looking around in a panic.

“Lockdown,” Sam whispered, his eyes wide. Castiel grimaced, turning to look at the corridor as Dean ran out, fear on his face.

“Something’s wrong!”

*****

You remembered this night too clearly. In the distance, sirens wailed and the screams of people echoed through the night. Chaos had unleashed itself upon the world and for the first time in your life, you’d found yourself utterly alone.

Your dad had been the last to succumb to the illness that had affected everyone but you, and he’d urged you, with his dying breaths, to run. In your bag, you carried more junk food than your mom would have ever let you eat in one go, but you didn’t exactly have time to prepare a healthy salad. You’d grabbed only the essentials, and the book your mom always read to you, plus the small pocket knife that your brother had hidden from your parents for years.

It hurt to think of the way you’d snuck into his room and taken it from his drawer while he lay, cold and unmoving on the bed. There was no point going to the hospital. Everyone was dead or dying.

Without even thinking of what direction you had to go in, you’d fled away from other people into the woods, unable to even use the satellite navigation on your phone since it was just a useless lump of plastic now. The battery died less than a day after the electricity had been shut off, and you’d been shocked at how lost you felt without technology.

The trees were dark as you retraced the footsteps you’d taken ten years before, remembering how frightened you’d been, and despite the fact that it was all in your head, you felt that fear just as vividly now.

Leaves crunched under your feet as you walked, sniffing back tears. Everything in your mind jumbled together, but you tried to focus on Dean, on the bunker, on getting back to the life you’d slowly started to build after so long in chains.

Something moved in the woods behind you and you span around, eyes wide with fear as you searched the darkness for the source of the movement. Not seeing anything, you turned back, grunting in frustration as the pitter patter of rain started against the leaves of the trees. Within a few moments, it was raining heavily, thunder and lightning lashing across the sky.

You didn’t remember this happening.

The sound of movement made you turn again, before you felt something slam into your back. You fell to the floor, crying out more in shock than pain. The bag you’d carried slipped from your shoulders into the rapidly softening ground, and you tried to push up, only to find a heavy weight pinning you. Growling sounded, too close to your ear for your liking and you froze with terror, feeling hands slid up your arms, holding you down.

“Omega…” a too-familiar voice snarled, and you cursed your own body’s betrayal at the sound of his voice.

“Dean?” you croaked, trying to twist your head to see him, but he wouldn’t let you. His mouth latched onto the column of your throat, nipping at the soft skin there, eliciting little cries from you as your body reacted to your Alpha’s touch. It wasn’t like any behavior you’d ever seen from him in real life - he was almost feral.

“Want to see a real Alpha?” the witch’s voice sounded, and you looked up, frantically trying to see her, but she wasn’t anywhere to be found. Dean growled again, his fingers releasing your arms to travel down your sides, making you shudder. The rain had soaked you through now, and you were freezing, and had nothing to fight him with as he turned you onto your back.

He didn’t look anything like your Dean either. His eyes were almost glowing with an ethereal light, and his scent was all wrong, although the noises he made shot straight to your core. You were torn between fighting him off, and the craving for your Alpha that had been buzzing below the surface since you’d had the  _ real _ Dean with you. It didn’t help he was naked, hard and rutting against your thigh.

“You don’t get a choice, dear girl. You’re  _ his _ Omega, and he’ll take what he wants.”

Dean leaned over you, his teeth pointed like an animals, and you felt fear clash with the arousal in your body. Adrenaline pumped through you, and you struggled a little against his hold, only serving to make him growl and snap at you with his jaws. “Dean, please,” you whimpered, but he didn’t seem to recognize your voice or understand the words. The witch’s laughter echoed through the trees as the rain continued to lash down.

Fingers tore at your clothes, leaving them in shreds as he sought to get to his prize. You fought him off, trying not to succumb to the needs your body was demanded you had fulfilled. It was all wrong, and  _ not _ your Dean - he’d never be so rough, never take without asking. You knew that, and you knew this wasn’t him, not truly. It was a mask, a facade of your deepest fears.

“Omega,” he grunted, using his knees to shove your thighs apart, and you cried out at the roughness of the movement. His mouth was buried in the hollow of your neck, his teeth scraping against the sensitive skin of your neck.

As he rutted against you, you sobbed, pushing at his shoulders fruitlessly, but he was significantly stronger than you, focused on getting what he wanted.

“Dean, stop, please -”

“He’s not gonna stop, sweetheart,” the witch taunted, still out of sight, although her voice was clear as day through the heavy rain. The ground underneath you squished as Dean pushed your legs further apart, his cock pressing into you and you cried out in a mixture of pleasure and agony at the way he was treating you. “This is what Alphas do. This is what he is.”

“No, no, he’s not, stop, please -” You slammed the palms of your hands into Dean’s shoulders, focusing all of your thoughts on the Alpha you knew, the one who loved you, who would  _ never _ use you like this. “Dean!”

The creature with Dean’s face stopped, reeling back at the pitch of your voice, the urgency in your tone.

“This isn’t you,” you sobbed, shaking your head, your entire body quivering from the cold. Rainwater was in your eyes, mingling with your tears, and Dean’s posture relaxed, his gaze softening, the sharp edges of his teeth receding into the more normal visage you were used to.

“Omega,” he whispered, dropping his head to yours, nuzzling your face, and your sobs turned to quiet noises of relief as he pulled away. The witch screeched, and you cried out as something seized your body, making the fake Dean snarl in fright, his arms pulling you into his hold. You buried your head in his chest, screaming in pain, trying to escape whatever the witch was doing.

As darkness swallowed the forest around you, the only coherent thought you had, as you pressed against his chest, was that you couldn’t hear Dean’s heartbeat.


	20. Part Twenty

Sam turned Y/N’s arm over in his big hands, frowning at the tendrils of black that seemed to be working through her veins. It was moving slowly, but still fast enough to be on track to covering her arms. It started at her fingertips, and was just past her elbow, creeping like poison. They’d checked her feet and found the same thing. Dean hovered behind him, hands pressed to his scalp, fear and worry in his eyes.

“What do you think it is?” he asked, and Sam looked up at Cas, sat the other side, almost mimicking his movements.

“The witch, most likely,” Cas replied lowly, before releasing his hold on Y/N’s arm, letting it softly fall back onto the bed. “I cannot sense anything more than I could before. There’s a darkness in her, and I believe this… blackness is the witch’s poison working through her.”

Sam stood, leaning over to place his hand against Y/N’s forehead. “She’s cold. We should get her some more blankets.” He moved past Dean, who stood with the red emergency lights flashing over his face, but he was entirely focused on his unconscious mate. Every second that passed, he could feel the tug of her in his belly, his chest tightening with fear that he would lose her.

“We need to do that spell,” Kevin whispered from the doorway. Dean’s head snapped around to glare at him, and Kevin realised they hadn’t told him what they’d found. “There’s a spell, to trap the witch. We could get her out of Y/N’s head, stop her from drawing power from her.”

Dean’s eyebrows raised, just as Sam came back in with all the covers from his bed bundled in his arms. “A spell?” Sam nodded as he pushed past, quickly laying out the covers over Y/N’s prone body. “And we’re waiting why?”

“We can’t leave. Cas can’t teleport,” Sam replied. “And one of the ingredients we need is outside.”

A frown made Dean’s eyebrows drop again. “What is it?”

“An egg,” Castiel answered, his face expressionless. “I did not empty the hen houses this morning -” Dean held up a hand, shaking his head.

“We have eggs left in the kitchen,” he said, looking between Sam and Cas.

“It needs to be fresh,” Sam warned, and Dean shrugged.

“How fresh? This one was laid yesterday. It’s our only shot right now, yeah?” Sam nodded in affirmation and Dean folded his arms over his chest. “Then it’s fucking fresh enough.”

Thirty minutes later, Sam, Dean and Kevin were in the library, with all the tables and chairs pushed to the side. Cas remained by Y/N’s side, ready in the event of something going wrong. He kept one hand on her forearm, monitoring her, trying to lend her his strength, even as the blackness crept further along her skin.

Kevin sucked in a deep breath, holding the book out in front of him. They’d decided that he was best to read the difficult incantation for the spell, which was in Latin, while Sam mixed the ingredients in the method the book described. Dean stood by the door, gun loaded with witch killing bullets, his focus trained on the chalk circle on the floor between his brother and the former prophet. His face was set in grim determination, and he wondered briefly if he was visibly shaking from the tension in his body.

Red lights flashed continuously, giving Sam a headache as he tried to keep his attention on the spell they were about to perform. Kevin was muttering to himself, his eyes half closed as he checked his pronunciation and the words that he had to say. A thick bandage was wound around his hand - the blood of the caster was required for the spell to work, and as Kevin was reading it, they assumed that to be him.

“Are we ready?” Sam asked, and Kevin’s eyes opened fully. He nodded, his mouth a thin line of determination as Dean shifted a little, ready for whatever was to come. “This should draw her out, bind her within the circle. Then we can kill her.”

“And Y/N will wake up,” Kevin added, glancing to Dean.

“Good, let’s get on with it,” he replied, his tone indicating that he just wanted it done with. Kevin looked back to Sam, who nodded at him, and the smallest of the three began to read as the tallest started dropping the ingredients into the large golden bowl that had seen more potions than anyone could remember.

“Locutus est sanguis, nuper nata volatile,” Kevin began, as Sam dropped in the vial of his blood and the whole egg. Magic crackled around the bowl and the items began to dissolve around each other, filling the room with a sickening smell. “Relinquit a bestia herba, lapsus est in litore.” The stench grew, and Kevin choked a little, his eyes flickering up to meet Sam’s, as the other two men covered their faces in disgust. “Dicimus pientissimam contentionem tecum, nos ligare inquiunt te, in circulo -”

Black fire crackled and spat, as Sam threw the last ingredient into the bowl, stepping back as the fire became smoke, that thickened and curled, much like the wall Dean had seen in the road. Kevin’s eyes widened, and he spoke the final words of the spell.

“Sic fiat semper.”

Silence.

Seconds seemed to stretch out as the black smoke hung in the air around the bowl, pulsing and swirling like it was alive. Dean cocked his gun, aiming at it, narrowing his eyes as they waited for something to happen.

The red lights stopped flashing, lighting up the library so brightly, it seemed like they might explode. Kevin cowered, and Sam looked around with concern, but Dean remained focused on the smoke. It moved, stretching one curled tendril outwards, as if searching, and then it moved.

It was too fast to follow, but Dean tried anyway, taking off a split second after it. The cloud hurled itself down the corridors to the bedrooms, heading straight for his, and he yelled out a warning just a little too late.

Castiel looked up as the smoke pushed through the doorway, filling the room, and a high pitched wail sounded. He searched blindly, able to feel Y/N convulsing in his grip but not able to see anything. Dean shouted for him, shouted for Y/N, but there was nothing to see in the thick inky blackness.

There was a dull thud, and the sound of screaming stopped. Slowly, the smoke faded, almost absorbed by the walls, and Dean blinked, still holding his gun aloft as his gaze settled on his bed.

Y/N was breathing heavily, the black veins that were running through her skin disappearing, and her eyes opened wide. “Dean!” she cried out, flailing in the bed. He rushed to her side, gathering her up in his arms, the gun tossed onto the bed as his concern became only for her. “Dean,” she repeated, clutching at him, her fingers almost tearing his shirt in her urgency to be close to him.

He inhaled her scent, closing his eyes as he held her shuddering body close, his fingers threading through her hair, placing absent-minded and desperate kisses to her forehead and temples. Y/N burrowed into his chest, bursting into sobs that made her body quiver.

“Your heart is beating,” she whispered. “You’re real, you’re real.”

“I’m real,” he reassured her, swallowing down his own tears of joy and relief. “You’re here, you’re home, I got you.” Dean wasn’t even sure his words were English, but he kept talking anyway. Sam and Kevin skidded to a halt at the bedroom door, both of them looking around.

It was then that Dean’s gaze was drawn to the angel on the floor. The thud must have been him going down, and he frowned, unsure of what had happened.

“Cas!” Sam called, moving past his brother and the Omega on the bed, kneeling down beside the angel. He checked him over, finding no visible wounds, and he looked up at Dean. “He’s alive, I think. But…”

“The witch wasn’t in the circle,” Kevin finished for him. “It drew her out but -”

“She’s loose,” Dean muttered, eyes narrowing as he tightened his hold on the Omega in his arms. There was an anger rising in his chest, pure hatred and loathing - a part of him wondered what the witch had done to his Omega, but the same part also wondered what he would do if he knew.

“She wants you dead,” Y/N whispered, pulling away to look up at him with red-rimmed eyes. “She said… she said I was going to help her.”

Dean shook his head. “You’re fine, you’re back,” he repeated, smoothing her hair back from her face. His stomach curled at her touch, at the scent of her filling his lungs - he could feel the bond between them settled deep in his chest, a piece of her embedded deep in his heart. There was no way he would let her go now.

“She was draining you, to regain power,” Sam explained, softly. “We need to find her, and gank her.”

“You won’t get any argument from me,” Y/N whispered, shaking herself. “I don’t know why, but she wants you to suffer, Dean. She hates you, like… like hate I’ve never seen before. Told me I was messing up her plans, and she wanted to make me hurt too. She… she showed me…”

“It doesn’t matter right now,” Dean interrupted, unsure if he wanted to hear any of it. He knew he would have to, eventually, but the immediate issue was finding the witch and putting the bitch down. “She might not have her full strength, and we need to stop her before she does.”

Castiel groaned on the floor, rolling onto his side and grabbing his head. He opened his eyes, the brilliant blue flashing briefly before dying away. “It is too late,” he grunted, brushing off Sam’s hand as he got to his feet. “The spell, it freed her. She… used Y/N’s body to connect with my grace.”

Sam frowned, his gaze moving between the angel and the other occupants of the room. “What does that mean?” he asked, the crinkles of his forehead more pronounced as his expression deepened.

The angel sighed. “My grace is gone. She is at full power. And she intends to destroy us all.”

*****

“You need to rest,” Dean urged, his hand on your elbow as you climbed out of the bed. “That fever, then the witch -”

“I’m fine,” you argued, turning in his hold, pressing up close to him, even if just to inhale his scent for a few seconds longer. You didn’t want to lose any kind of connection with him now, not when you’d thought you’d never see him again. It felt like you needed to burn away every image the witch had put in your head, to reaffirm Dean’s rightful place as your Alpha.

But now was not the time, nor the place. When this was over and the witch was dead, then you and Dean could take the proper time to -

“You feel it, right?” he asked, breathlessly, the words rushed out like he was nervous to even think them. “I’m not… I’m not going crazy.”

You gave him a small smile, nodding, seeing his shoulders drop in relief. “You’re not going crazy. I feel it. I don’t know how, I don’t really care how if I’m honest…” You leaned up, nuzzling into the side of his neck. “When this is all over, we’ll figure it out.”

“I don’t deserve you,” Dean whispered, shame coating his tone, and you frowned, pulling back, before placing your hands on his stubbled cheeks. His eyes were shining with unshed emotion, and you bit your lip, your head shaking a little, denying his statement.

“There was a reason you found me, Dean. I’m don’t believe in fairy tales but you… you called to me the second I saw you. And I think you felt the same.” Taking a breath, you smiled, brushing your thumbs over his cheeks. “If anything, we both deserve more than this world we’re stuck in, but I know you’re the Alpha I deserve, the Alpha I  _ need _ . And I’m yours. I promise.”

He nodded, smiling back at you, dragging you close to seize your lips in a passionate kiss. Neither of you were willing to let go of the other, but eventually, the burning need for oxygen made you part, your eyes connecting in the seconds afterwards. “When this is done, I’m gonna claim you properly, Omega,” he muttered, his nose almost squished against yours. The use of the title made you shiver, and you nodded, feeling a little breathless at his proximity.

Sam’s voice echoed down the hallway, and you both turned, following the sound. He was calling for Dean, and sounded worried. Walking into the library, you and Dean were met by the sight of Castiel slumped in a chair, holding his head. His grace was taking too long to replenish, from whatever the witch had done to him, but they’d come to the conclusion that the magical lockdown on the bunker meant that she was just as trapped as you.

Problem was, she probably didn’t want to go anywhere until everyone was dead, so it wasn’t much comfort.

“Don’t witches normally use hex bags?” you asked, squeezing Dean’s fingers. “I read in the books…”

“Some spells require hex bags,” Kevin offered, placing a large tome on the table. It was covered in dust, sprouting a little cloud as it hit the wooden surface. “But not all magic. This witch seems to be quite powerful.”

Sam made a face, as Dean sighed. “Probably means she’s pretty old. Any progress on why she wants us dead specifically?” He raised an eyebrow in his younger brother’s direction, still unused to seeing him standing there, whole, alive, actually  _ existing _ . Every time he saw him, he felt nothing but relief.

“We have spent most of our lives pissing off anything supernatural. This witch might have a grudge if we tried to kill her or… something,” Sam replied, his lips twitching in amusement. You blinked, looking at Dean, who shrugged.

“He’s not wrong.”

“Did you pick up on anything when she was…” Sam trailed off, his gaze fixed on you and you shifted uncomfortably, understanding his question without him needing to voice the rest of it. With a shake of your head, you bit your bottom lip, tightening your hold on Dean’s hand. “I guess that would be asking for too much luck.” 

Kevin frowned, just as Cas grunted in amusement. “So what do we do now?”

“Well, she wants us dead,” Dean offered. “Maybe we can bait her?”

“Who’s to say she’s not listening to us right now?” you pointed out.

“She could be anywhere,” Sam admitted. “I think it’s probably best if we get somewhere we can ward. Like the dungeon.” Dean nodded in agreement with his brother, as Kevin’s shoulders slumped. He genuinely hated the dungeon, but it was the only room they could successfully ward. “Walls are lined with all sorts of spellwork. We can ward her out -”

Dean interrupted. “And keep Y/N safe from her.”

Your brow dipped and you tugged your hand out of his, folding your arms over your chest indignantly. “Keep me safe? She wants us  _ all _ dead, Dean.”

“Yeah, but she’s already gone after you once, and you haven’t had time to -”

Reaching out, you poked him in the chest with one finger, and he made a small noise of pain, rubbing the spot as you glared at him. “Don’t treat me like some fragile little girl, Dean Winchester. I might be an Omega, but let me remind you, I’m not the sort to sit down and watch everyone else in danger when I can  _ do _ something. Don’t put me down to that level.”

His mouth opened and closed as he tried to think of an argument, and Sam snickered, earning himself a deathly look from his big brother. “I just want to keep you safe.”

“Safest place for me is with you,” you replied, keeping your voice stern. “If you haven’t learned that by now -”

“She’s got a point,” Castiel rasped. “She is a beneficial ally. And quite scary when she wants to be.” You nodded at his words, a smug smile on your face as Dean’s posture relaxed, and he exhaled heavily. He glanced at Sam, who held his hands up in defense.

“I’m not arguing with her,” he quipped.

“We do this together. No one gets hurt, no one dies,” you stated. “Except the witch, obviously.”


	21. Part Twenty-One

Having not spent much time in the dungeon before now, Y/N seemed to portray a little less bravado as Dean led her into the room. She clung to his hand, her nails digging into his palm, but he didn’t point it out - the reassurance of her presence was comforting, despite the fact that he knew he’d have little crescent marks there when she let go.

Hell, if she drew blood, he wouldn’t care.

Sam helped Castiel into a chair, the depleted angel grunting with every movement, struggling to even keep his head up. He was pretty much useless, which was a blow to their plan of survival. As soon as all five of them were inside, Kevin started to ward the room, Sam moving to assist him as Y/N checked Cas over.

“My grace will return but it will take time,” he muttered, not resisting her need to make sure he was okay. Dean knew why she was doing it; it was part of her nature to take care of people, he’d seen it, and it was one thing that made him love her all the more. In the weeks since she’d come into his life, he’d realized that holding onto the cold walls he kept around his heart was useless - they’d started melting the moment he’d seen her snarl at that bitch Alpha in the compound.

“Dean?” Y/N spoke quietly, distracting him from his thoughts. “How long will it take to ward the room?”

“Ask the experts,” he replied, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I was never good with the magic stuff. Don’t ever ask about chicken feet.” She cocked her head to the side, the question already in her eyes, and he reached out to cup her cheek. “When this is over, I’ll tell you all my stories, sweetheart. I promise.” 

She smiled, warming his heart, but before he could indulge in the moment further, Sam called out, clicking his fingers in his direction. “Dean!”

The elder Winchester moved close to where Sam was working on the warding, his eyes widening as he saw black smoke curling underneath the door. “She’s here.”

“The warding isn’t done!” Kevin yelped, his voice shrill with panic. “She can get in!”

Dean looked around for something, anything to fight the witch off, but saw nothing. He pulled his gun free from the waistband of his pants, taking aim at the smoke. Firing three rounds into it, it did nothing, and the witch kept coming.

“Dean!” Y/N cried, her hand landing on his shoulder as he kept stepping backwards. He shielded her with his body as the smoke grew thicker, tendrils lashing out to send Sam and Kevin stumbling backwards. Maniacal feminine laughter echoed through the small room, just as Castiel got to his feet, pushing Sam out of his way.

“Go,” he said, his voice weak but steady. “I will distract her. You must run.”

“Cas, you don’t have any grace!” Dean growled, keeping his eyes on the rapidly forming blackness. “She’ll kill you.”

“Better I die than all of you. Go!” his eyes glowed, and Y/N clung to Dean, as the witch’s form started to become more distinct amongst the smoke. “Now!”

Dean hesitated, looking to Sam, who nodded, and all four of them moved, abandoning the weakened angel in the dungeon. The witch screeched, but didn’t follow and they kept going, not stopping until they were in the corridor leading to the library and war room.

“Can we seal her in there?” Y/N asked, looking around. Dean shook his head as Sam did the same, both of them looking grim. “But the witch killing bullets didn’t work.” Silence fell amongst them, broken only by the heavy breathing of their exertion, before Sam looked up, a frown forming on his face.

“What?” Dean questioned, seeing his brother straighten. “Sam?”

“The Colt,” Kevin exhaled, trying to catch his breath.

“Kills anything, right?” the younger Winchester said, but Dean shook his head.

“Got no idea where the Colt is, Sam. I haven’t seen it in… forever.”

Sam smiled widely, looking at Kevin as the younger man grinned back. “Maybe not in your reality. But I found it, six years ago. It’s hidden in my room.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “There’s no guarantee that it’s here, things aren’t the same -”

“It’s worth a shot,” Sam interrupted, looking back the way they’d run. “Cas won’t be able to hold her for long. I’ll go, you three keep moving.” He gave Dean a nod, the expression on his face not leaving any room for argument, and the elder of the two sighed, returning the nod.

“Be careful, Sammy.”

Sam smiled. “You know I will.” He turned in the direction of the bedroom, taking off in a sprint, and Dean grabbed Y/N’s hand again.

“Let’s move.”

A horrific sounded shriek made them cover their ears, and smoke began to leak through the walls, coming through the lights like something out of a scary movie. “Cas…” Y/N whispered, blinking away tears as Dean’s face contorted into a grim expression of sorrow. “Dean -”

“I know. But we can’t do anything right now. We need to move.” He tugged on her arm, forcing her to move, just as the smoke blew through the corridor Sam had disappeared through, almost like the fallout from an explosion. “Y/N!”

The witch materialized, a vicious smile on her face, the sight of her making Kevin back up behind Dean and Y/N. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at them, predatory, ready to devour.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

*****

Terror was pounding through your veins as you backed up into the solid wall of Dean’s chest. He held you close, aiming his gun at the witch, who laughed, shaking her head. “Do you really think your pathetic concoction will hurt me? I’ve lived for a thousand years, boy.”

Dean shrugged, smirking. “Worth a shot.” He fired, hitting her in the chest, pushing you around his body in a swift movement, towards the war room. Kevin took off ahead, as Dean followed on your heels, but the bullet barely slowed the evil bitch down. She thrust out a hand, a pillar of black catching Dean in his lower back, and he hollered in pain.

“Dean!” You reached for him, only to be dragged away by the witch’s power. She threw you against the far wall, while the black smoke wrapped around Dean, hoisting him up into the air like a puppet.

“Hush, girl,” the witch snapped, closing her fist and tightening her hold on your mate. “Pathetic hunters.”

Kevin reached into his pocket, but the witch was quick to spot him, sending him crashing into the lit up table in the middle of the room. The glass and metal folded around him, trapping him in its grasp, and he screamed loudly, making you wince.

“I spent years making you suffer,” she spat, approaching slowly, her footsteps silent, like she was gliding. “Then this stupid little bitch comes along, and unravels everything.” She focused on you, her cold eyes glinting as Dean struggled more. 

“Leave her alone,” he growled, his face growing more red by the second. You flinched as the witch’s power slammed you back into the wall again. 

“Or what?” the witch taunted, grinning.

“What do you want from us?!” Kevin wailed, fighting against the metal that encased his torso and legs. You watched with fright as he squirmed in the trap, seeing something shiny in his hand. The witch didn’t seem to notice, throwing her head back in laughter.

“I want you to suffer, like you made me suffer,” she snarled, her lips curling up in a manner that reminded you of the Cheshire Cat. It was all teeth, like her mouth was too large for her face, threatening to swallow her whole. “Dean Winchester, the great hunter -”

“Lady, I don’t even know who you are,” Dean interrupted, grunting as her hold on him increased.

The smile disappeared, replaced with a scowl. “How typical of a hunter. You murdered my sisters, Dean Winchester. And now, you’re going to pay by watching everyone you love die.”

“Your sisters?” you asked, trying to keep her focus off killing anyone for at least a few more moments. She fixed her eyes on you once more, and you could feel the coldness of her gaze, remembering how she’d gotten into your head and twisted your thoughts.

“My sisters,” she repeated, slowly. “We were together for a millennia, until Dean Winchester murdered them.”

“They probably weren’t upstanding citizens,” Dean commented, riling her up further.

“Shut your hole,” the witch hissed, twisting her wrist and making Dean cry out in agony as the smoke pulsed and swirled around him. You pulled one arm from the wall, reaching out to him.

“Don’t!” you cried, “Please, don’t hurt him.” 

“Why not? He's a killer, girl. I waited so long for vengeance, then those stupid celestials destroyed the world. I took my chance and you  _ ruined _ everything. So now, you all die.” Her laughter seemed to reverberate around you, and you cringed as she twisted her wrist again, making Dean groan. His strength was failing, and you struggled against her hold, feeling it give just a little more, desperate to get to him.

The sound of a gun cocking echoed through the room, and the witch’s head snapped around, seeing Sam in the doorway with the ancient-looking gun in his hand. He smiled, and you frowned, unaware of the significance of the gun, but knowing it was important.

“A gun, really?” 

Sam smirked, his finger squeezing the trigger, and the witch shrieked, letting you drop in favor of swiping Sam to the side. You hit the floor with a thud, trying to catch your breath, your energy depleted from the exertion. Sam’s back slammed against the column by the door, and his chin jutted high into the air, making him dangle above the floor, the witch’s power tight around his throat.

“You get to choose, Dean. Your brother or your mate,” the witch snarled, and you looked up, tears in your eyes as Dean fought against her power, shaking his head. “Choose!”

“NO!” he yelled, as Sam croaked out for breath.

“Dean, it’s okay. You’ve made it without me before,” he gasped, clawing at his own throat.

The witch was laughing again, her entire body shuddering with her mirth. “You are mistaken, Sam. I’m going to kill one of you  _ first _ . You’ll all die, but Dean will be the last. So he can watch me take everything away from him.”

“Y/N…” Kevin whispered, opening his hand, just as the witch’s head snapped round. The small silver sphere fell from his hand, rolling across the floor to her feet. You sucked in a breath, getting to your feet as the she-bitch looked down at the ball, frowning at it.

“What is that supposed to be?” she queried, and Kevin gave a low laugh.

“Witch grenade,” he hissed, and the witch scowled, kicking it with her pointed foot. The ball exploded, filling the room with thick red smoke, and you took the opportunity to scramble across the floor, sliding to where you knew the Colt was. The witch was screaming in anger, the entire room pulsing with magic that made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

Your fingers closed around the metal of the gun, just as the witch struck out with her magic again, forcing the smoke to clear. “You think that could hurt me?” she screeched, turning to see you aiming the gun at her. “You pathetic humans. A gun won’t kill me.”

“That’s not just any gun,” Dean spat, sucking in breaths as her hold on him grew tighter by the second. He looked at you, and you closed your eyes, hating the feel of the gun in your hand, the weight of it, and the trigger underneath your finger.

Time slowed as the witch released both Dean and Sam, bringing her hands together, summoning everything she had to direct it at you. You squeezed the trigger, closing your eyes, feeling the gun fire, the force of it sending you backwards onto the polished floor, your head connecting with the corner of the pillar behind you.

By some miracle, the bullet hit its mark, square in the witch’s chest. She stopped in her tracks, the magic in her fingertips ghosting away into nothingness as she looked down at the wound. Light crackled through her, her body shaking and shuddering violently. Black smoke leaked from her veins, pouring out of her, and as it grew, the tremors racking her grew with it.

With one final, ear-splitting scream, she exploded, fine black dust filling the air for a few brief seconds before everything went quiet.

Dean looked up from where he’d fallen, seeing you laying across the floor from him, your eyes closed and the Colt held loosely in your hand. Worry flooded him, and he crawled to you, hauling you into his arms, his hand cradling the back of your head. He felt wetness there, and when he pulled his hand away, his fingers were red.


	22. Part Twenty-Two

“Y/N?” he whispered, careful not to jostle you too much. The red on his hand seemed to scream at him, and he checked you over, finding a steady pulse, which made him bend his head to your chest, thankful you were still alive. 

“Dean?” Sam’s voice was low as he crouched beside his brother.

“Help Kevin,” Dean ordered, unable to tear his eyes away from your face. Your breathing was shallow, but you were breathing, which was good. Sam stood, moving over to help Kevin out of the destroyed war room table. 

A sound from the other side of the room made Dean look up, and he saw Castiel limp into sight. He was a walking bruise, bloodied and blackened, but he was alive, making Dean’s shoulders slump in relief. 

“Cas,” Sam muttered, pulling Kevin free of his trappings. “You’re alive.”

“Barely,” the angel replied, slumping to his ass on the steps into the war room. “I was unconscious.” He frowned, as well as he could with one swollen shut eyes and blood all over his face, looking over at you. “Is she okay?”

“I think she bumped her head on the wall,” Dean replied, lifting you up into his arms. “She’s breathing, pulse is okay.” As if on cue, you sucked in a breath, opening your eyes to stare up at Dean. “There she is,” he whispered, smiling down at you.

You groaned, bringing one hand to your head. “Ow. That hurts.”

“I’ll bet,” Dean replied, his smile widening. The red lights of the lockdown system flickered, before going off, the regular lighting flooding the rooms and making all of you wince at the brightness. “That’s better,” the Alpha holding you muttered.

Slowly, he helped you to your feet, but he didn’t relinquish his hold on you at any time. Your fingers clutched at his arms, gratitude for his support all over your face. Without pausing, you buried your face in the crook of his neck, scenting him delicately.

“You need to rest,” he said, stroking over your back gently. “But not sleep. If you have a concussion, sleep is bad.” You nodded, smiling dopily into his shirt. “Come on.” He started to move, feeling you lean heavily into him, but as he led you towards the bedroom, you spotted Cas, concern coating your expression.

“Cas!” you whimpered. “You’re… not okay.”

“I will be fine,” the angel replied, giving you a weak smile. “You should rest.”

“I’ll take care of him,” Sam interrupted, and you nodded, letting your head drop back onto Dean’s chest, your fingers curling in his shirt. You felt so tired, so heavy… “Dean, she needs to lay down. I’ll bring some painkillers in for her.”

Dean nodded, before scooping you up into his arms, expecting resistance to the damsel in distress movement, but you simply murmured and curled into his hold. “She’s definitely out of it,” he chuckled. “Otherwise she’d bite my head off.”

*****

When Dean finally let you drift off into sleep, staying close to keep an eye on you, you didn’t dream. It was blissful and quiet, and as you opened your eyes, you realized you’d never felt so rested in your life. Turning onto your side, you saw Dean next to you, his eyes closed and his chest falling in a steady rhythm. He must have gotten tired watching over you.

Leaning in, you raised one hand, tracing the outline of his cheek, before trailing your fingertip down his nose. He wrinkled it at the motion, making you giggle at the total adorableness of it.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice thick with the grogginess of sleep.

“Watching you,” you whispered.

“That’s my job,” he replied, still not opening his eyes. His arms looped around your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you instinctively snuggled into him, finally content at having his scent and touch surrounding you. “I think this is the first time we’ve woken up together properly.”

You nodded, letting your eyes fall shut again, breathing him in. His fingers played a pattern over your hip, and you sighed happily at the feeling. “How long was I asleep?”

Dean moved, raising his head and opening blurry eyes to look at the clock on his bedside table. “About seven hours,” he muttered, giving a surprised little hum at the end. “That might be the most sleep I’ve had in ten years.”

A smile spread over your lips, and you wiggled closer, making him groan. “What?”

“I need to pee,” he admitted, dropping a kiss to your forehead. “Be right back.” He sat up, climbing out of the bed and leaving you alone. Moments ticked past, and you knew you weren’t going to get any more sleep. Your head felt fine, aside from a slight throbbing from the injury, but Dean had checked it before you’d fallen asleep, and decided it didn’t need stitches. Your blood had dried in your hair, and you could see it on the pillow as you shifted into a seated position, grimacing at the stains you knew wouldn’t come out. 

Dean returned to the room, seeing you sat up. “Everything okay?”

“Kinda want a shower,” you said, looking up at him, and he smiled, nodding. “Is this… I mean, I don’t have much, or any, experience, but when you hunt and you’ve killed whatever it is… does it always feel this anticlimactic?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I guess it differs. Mostly it’s relief it’s over, until the next hunt anyway.”

“Oh.” You screwed up your face, looking down at your bare feet. “I don’t think I want to hunt. If that’s okay. That whole thing was… well, terrifying.”

“You don’t have to hunt,” he said, frowning. “I’d never put you in danger like that.” He moved over to the bed, dropping to his knees in front of you. “But for the record, you’d be a badass hunter.” You grinned, leaning down to kiss the tip of his nose, making him grin.

“Shower?” you asked, and he nodded, standing and offering you his hand. You walked towards the door, looking back at him, a sly smile on your face. “Are you coming?” Dean blinked, like he hadn’t quite heard you, and you slipped out of the room, hearing his footsteps rushing to catch up with you.

Neither of you spoke as Dean turned the spray on, stripping his clothes off as you did the same. He held the cubicle curtain back for you, his eyes lingering on your naked body as you stepped in, quickly following behind. The spray was already the right warmth, and you let the water wash over your skin and hair, feeling Dean just behind you.

“Wash my hair?” you asked quietly, and he chuckled, leaning in to press a kiss to your shoulder, reaching around to grab the shampoo. The click of the bottle lid echoed around the cubicle, and a few seconds later, his large hands were in your hair, massaging your scalp and washing away the dirt, grime and blood of the last few days. It felt wonderful, and you tipped your head back, moaning a little at the relaxing sensation.

“How’s that?” Dean murmured, his voice thick with arousal.

“Really good,” you whispered in return, feeling his fingers soothe over the wound on your head, careful not to reopen it. “How bad is it?”

“Definitely doesn’t need stitches,” he replied, thumbing through your hair to check your injury. “Here, let me get this washed out.” You turned, keeping your eyes closed as he lifted the shower head from the holder, using the concentrated spray setting to wash all of the suds away from your hair. Stepping a little closer, you felt his erection brush against your belly, and you whined, earning a low growl in return. The growl got louder as you reached forward, blindly slipping your fingers around his cock, stroking him to full hardness. 

Dean finished rinsing the soap from your hair, allowing you to open your eyes, just as he covered your fingers with his own, pulling your hand away from his length, a softness in his eyes.

“Not here. Our first time… it’s gonna be in  _ our _ bed.”

You tilted your head, watching him carefully. “Our bed?”

He chuckled, placing the shower head back on the pole, before leaning in to kiss you. “In our room,” he reaffirmed, and you smiled, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Let’s get cleaned up.” The shower was still warm as you washed each other, taking the time to be gentle, sharing kisses in between simple touches. It was the calmest, most reverent experience you’d ever had, and Dean seemed to revel in your featherlight touch on his skin, his arousal never wavering, although you had to hold back from touching him there.

“I’ll get you a towel,” he whispered, washing the last of the suds off of his arms, before slipping out of the cubicle. You turned the spray off, and he reappeared with a towel for you, letting you step out before wrapping it around your body, kissing along your shoulders as you bared your neck to him. “You’re so beautiful…” he muttered, his hands sliding around your waist, over the towel, pulling you flush with his chest.

You arched back into him, whining softly under your breath, unable to control the roll of your hips into his groin, feeling the hardness of his arousal against your lower back. “Can we  _ please _ go back to bed?”

Dean chuckled with a nod, letting you go on ahead as he wrapped a towel around his waist, pressing his hand down over the front, just in case anyone else was in the corridor. He doubted that after ten years apart, Sam wanted to have his eyes sullied by his older brother’s towel tent.

When he walked into his room, you were stood by the bed, and the second the door clicked shut, your towel hit the floor, making Dean groan deeply. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he muttered, crossing the floor in three steps, discarding his own towel.

“That’s not funny,” you giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck, nuzzling against his stubbled jaw. 

“Probably not,” he replied, pushing you down onto the bed, his lips claiming yours until you broke away gasping for air. Dean was panting too, his face flushed, hair dripping onto the bed as he stared down at you. “It’s just a shame we gotta wait a few more weeks until we can do this properly.”

You sighed, running your fingers through his wet hair, smiling softly up at him. “Plenty of time to practice though, huh?”

He grinned, kissing you again, pressing his knee between your bare thighs. “Oh, plenty of time.” His thigh was pushed up against your cunt, and you whimpered as he applied more pressure, dipping his head to circle his tongue around your nipple. “God, you’re just like I dreamed.”

“You ever get tired of being funny?” you asked, smiling widely before gasping at the renewed pressure on your pussy. “Fuck, Dean… Alpha…”

The answering growl he gave you was all you got as he switched to your other breast, and you shivered as he sucked the nipple into his mouth hard. You were rutted against his thigh now, desperate for friction, desperate for him, needing him everywhere. Noises left your lips without you being conscious of it, little mewls and gasps of pleasure, which only escalated when Dean moved his thigh, replacing it with his thick fingers.

“So wet, Omega,” he purred, his mouth still surrounding the erect tip of your breast, the vibration of his words only making the skin swell further. “Smell so good.” 

The desperate noise that left you as he inched one finger into your tight channel spurred him on, and he started to slowly drag the digit in and out, curling it to seek out the sensitive spot inside your soft body. His cock was leaking precome over your thigh, the liquid cooling quickly on your skin and making goosebumps prickle over your leg.

“Dean,” you begged, panting as he lifted his head to look at you, his lips moist with spit, matching the swollen dark nipple he’d abandoned. “Please, I need you -” you paused, sucking in a breath as his thumb brushed your clit, “I need you inside, Alpha.”

Dean’s eyes almost crossed at the pleading tone of your voice, shifting so both his legs were between yours, forcing him to pull his fingers away from your pussy. “You sure you’re -”

“I’m ready,” you interrupted, impatient to feel him, real and hard, his weight bearing down on yours in the real world. Your only regret was that you couldn’t make the bond real here, not yet, not now anyway. “Please,” you repeated, rolling your hips up to him.

He nodded, taking your lips in a kiss as he fisted his cock between your bodies, the tickle of his arm hair against your belly making you squirm. The blunt tip of his cock pressed against your folds, opening you up easily with how wet you were, and with a deep, rumbling moan of pleasure, Dean slid home, not stopping until his hips were flush with yours.

His entire body shuddered as you lifted your legs to wrap them around his waist, your walls fluttering around him, your orgasm already close enough to taste. When he moved, you sucked in a harsh breath, gripping his shoulders tightly, locking your eyes on his.

“I love you,” you whispered, saying it like it was a forbidden prayer, and Dean smiled, dropping his head to kiss you again, responding with actions rather than words. With everything in you, you wanted him to know that it was real, that you felt so deeply for him that it seemed to wipe away your old life, the one he’d rescued you from.

“You’re so warm,” he moaned, only parting from you by an inch, intermittently returning to brush his lips against yours, as his thrusts grew in strength. “You’re close, baby, I can feel how tight you’re getting.”

You nodded, your mouth slack as you failed to keep your eyes open, the pleasure building in a crescendo that seemed to ring through your entire body, ending in the cry that left your lips. Dean didn’t stop, keeping his eyes on your face, watching as you came apart underneath him, the claim on your lips warming him all the way through.

He didn’t really have much control to start with, and a minute or so after you’d fallen over the edge, he joined you, pumping into you hard, a choked snarl of bliss muffled in the column of your throat.

For a moment, you wished you were in heat, that he’d knot you, but he held back, seemingly content with kissing across your slick skin, holding his weight off your body by his elbows.

“I love you,” he whispered, his mouth in the hollow of your throat and you smiled, running your fingers through his hair again, repeating the words back to him. “Next time,” he promised, sliding his hands underneath your shoulders. “As soon as you’re in heat, I’m making you mine, Omega.”


	23. Part Twenty-Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your wonderful feedback and for following this story. I hope you enjoy the ending!!

Your heat started exactly two weeks later, earlier than you’d thought it would, and typically, while Dean was out on a supply hunt with Sam.

Things had changed since the witch had been defeated, and the world had been put right. It was odd, how things in the bunker had altered enough that you all needed to get used to it again, but you liked having a family around again. Sam was like the big brother you’d never had, and Kevin reminded you of your own little brother, lost so long ago.

Even Castiel had managed to crack a few smiles, once he’d returned to full strength, and you’d looked after his chickens and plants as he recovered. Now, it was a job you enjoyed doing, and you’d started making plans to extend the garden outwards, giving Dean and Sam a list of things to find on their foraging trips.

In the past, your heat usually started during the night, leading you to waking with cramps and sweats but this time, is came on slowly. You woke up feeling fine, and around lunchtime, without realizing what you were even doing, you’d rearranged the covers and pillows on Dean’s bed, dragging them into one spot and cocooning yourself to watch a film on his television. Castiel had wandered past the room, not stopping at first, before he backtracked and paused in the doorway.

“What are you doing?” he asked, leaning against the frame with a curious frown on his face.

You looked up from your shuffling, not even aware of what he meant, before you looked down at the arranged pillows and sheets. “I’m, er… getting comfortable?”

“The chickens do that,” he commented. “When they’re nesting.” He stepped into the room, approaching the bed, and you felt yourself bristle at his closeness, which was an unusual reaction that made you blink. Castiel seemed to notice and a small smile tugged at his lips. Reaching out, he touched your hand, and you glared at him. 

“What?” you spat, and the angel chuckled.

“I think I should fetch Dean.”

Snatching your hand away from him, you curled up further into the covers, scowling at him. “I don’t need Dean.”

“You’re in heat,” he said, quietly, and you grit your teeth, looking away from him.

“This isn’t a heat. I’m not due.”

“I can feel it, Y/N. Let me go and get Dean. You’re nesting, and you need your Alpha here.”

You grumbled low in your chest. “Not technically my Alpha yet,” you replied, lifting your chin defiantly, but Cas was already gone, disappearing from your side. A few seconds later, he was back, with a disoriented looking Dean. “Cas!”

“What the hell, man!” Dean pushed Cas off, rounding on him, ready to tear him a new one when he froze, his arm halfway raised. His nostrils flared, and he turned slowly, looking at where you were curled up under the covers. “Y/N?” His attention left Castiel, who was smirking slightly, and he approached you, concern on his face. “Sweetheart, are you okay?”

Honestly, you had every intention of saying that you were fine, that Cas was being an idiot, and that he shouldn’t have dragged Dean away from his brother. But all that came out was a tiny whimper, and you felt your bottom lip wobbling without your consent.

The angel disappeared again, but neither you nor Dean noticed. The Alpha shut the door, before kicking off his boots and climbing onto the bed, crawling towards you. You shuffled in the covers, making room for him, contentment washing over you as his scent surrounded you, his arms pulling you close against his broad chest.

“I guess he was right,” you whispered, nuzzling into his shirt. “I’ve just never had a heat start in the middle of the day.”

Dean chuckled, dropping a kiss to your forehead, his warm breath fanning across your skin. “I won’t chew him out for coming to get me. Although Sam might be wondering where I am.”

“I would have been fine until you got home,” you pointed out, your brow dipping in irritation with Castiel. “He didn’t need to pull you away.”

“We were on our way back tonight anyway. So I’m here a few hours earlier,” he shrugged. “Means you don’t have to be alone.” His fingers were rubbing along the bare patch of skin between your shirt and your pants, and you shivered as arousal blossomed in your belly. “What is this, anyway? You nesting or something?”

You shrugged, running your finger down the middle of his stomach, feeling a little thrill of satisfaction when his body jerked as you caught his ticklish spots. “It’s never happened before.”

A smile crossed Dean’s face, and he shifted so he was eye level with you, cupping your cheek to draw you into a kiss. You moaned into him, lifting one leg to drape it over his waist, and he automatically responded, sliding his hand up your thigh to squeeze your ass with a grin. “It’s kinda cute.”

“Shut up,” you scolded, not even bothering to hide your blush as you slapped his shoulder lightly.

“Awww, sweetheart,” he chided, rubbing his nose into yours. “You feelin’ a little needy?” He pressed his thigh upwards into your pussy, and you whined loudly. “Hmmm, Omega, you smell so good.” You whimpered again, grinding down onto his thigh, friction building between you as you tried to get closer to him. “Want my knot, baby?”

It wasn’t like you and Dean hadn’t spent the last two weeks fucking in every way possible, but this was your  _ heat _ and everything felt so much more intense. The thought of finally having him like you wanted him, actually  _ belonging _ to him, and him to you, was almost more than you could process. You nodded desperately at his question, gasping when he grazed blunt teeth over the pulse point of your neck.

“Say it,” he ordered, the words growled against your throat.

“Yes, Alpha,” you hissed, your fingers almost tearing at his shirt. “Want your knot -” Your words disintegrated into a needy mewl, and Dean pulled you closer, practically crushing you into him as he kept rubbing his thigh against your soaked core. Slick soaked your pants, and he snarled as he scented you.

“Fuck, wanna see you.” He tore at your t-shirt, almost ripping the seams as he pulled it over your head, still rutting into you with his thigh. You were so close, you could taste it, and the second his lips closed around your bare nipple, you lost control, howling your pleasure into the air. “That’s it,” he grunted, his fingers making their way down your sides to the waistband of your pants. “Love the way you come for me.”

Fixing your eyes on him, you decided that he was wearing too much, and tugged at his button down, almost fighting with him to get it off before he stripped your pants down your legs. It must have looked comical to an outside viewer, but neither of you seemed to care as you struggled to disrobe the other.

Before you could even get your fingers into the waistband of Dean’s pants, he had slid down, his shirt coming off as he did so, one hand lifting your leg under your knee, slipping it free from the dangling leg of your pants. You barely had time to react before his tongue was pressed flat against your cunt, and a moan reverberated through you, distracting you from your task of getting him naked.

“Smell so good,” he grunted, sticking his tongue out as far as he could, running the tip over your folds, up towards your swollen clit. A yelp let your lips as he teased the little bud, making your hips jerk against him. Your fingers grasped the pillow next to you, and Dean growled, shifting onto his knees, using his free hand to dispatch the scrunched up sheets to the floor, allowing him more room to move. Both of your legs were pressed upwards, your knees bent as far as they could go, your pants completely removed and Dean resumed his assault, his tongue pressing into your soaked pussy.

“Dean,” you whimpered, tossing your head back, breathing heavily through your nose as your teeth seized your bottom lip, your eyes fluttering shut in the wake of his onslaught. He was feasting on you like a man starved, his fingers digging into your thighs just above your knee, and a thrill ran up your spine at the thought of the bruises he’d leave there. “Dean, I need -”

He paused, looking up at you from between your legs, his pupils blown with lust. “I know what you need, Omega. But I wanna taste you, so shut up and come.”

Fuck, he was bossy, but you weren’t going to argue - you didn’t even have the strength to as he continued to lap at your folds, thrusting his tongue into your tight channel, making you writhe and mewl against him. The order he’d given wormed its way into your subconscious, making every ounce of pleasure he wrung from you even more intense, and the second his blunt teeth grazed over your clit, you were done for. You came, a keening wail leaving your lips as your ass lurched off the bed as far as it could go, and yet, Dean didn’t stop.

When you were nothing but a quivering mess on the bed, he pulled back, lips pulled back over his teeth in a smug grin, his chin shining with the remnants of your orgasm. He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, crawling up the bed, locking his eyes with yours as he ground the denim-covered bulge of his cock into your sensitive pussy.

“You want my knot, Omega?” he queried, and you couldn’t do anything but nod, your mouth slack as you attempted to recover from your climax, a mission made that much harder by the friction he was creating by rutting into you like he was. “Say please.”

“Don’t be an ass,” you panted, pushing at his shoulder with a weak hand. Dean chuckled under his breath, pulling away and you were simultaneously relieved for the movement and disappointed by the bereavement of his weight. He kept his eyes on you as he unbuckled his pants, shoving them down his thighs as far as he could, before leaning in. As he kissed you, he wiggled, kicking his pants all the way off.

Neither of you spoke as he leaned over your body, supporting his weight on his hands, planted either side of your waist. His body was vibrating with pent up need, and you wondered briefly if he’d been pushed into a sudden rut by Cas dumping him here with you. There was no need to voice the question - if he had, it wouldn’t be a problem in the slightest.

“Wanna claim you so bad,” Dean growled, nipping his way along your jaw, down the column of your throat, pausing at the place where your pulse was most evident against the skin. “Fill you up with my pups.” Your eyes widened, and you pushed at his shoulder, making him look up towards you. There had never been any discussion of what would happen between you, but you supposed there wasn’t much option for birth control in the apocalypse, and the way you’d been fucking recently…

“You want that?” you whispered, feeling suddenly vulnerable, which was reflected in Dean’s unguarded gaze as he watched you for a moment. A barely imperceptible nod was your response, and you smiled, emotion clouding your eyes. A smile covered his lips, and he bent his head to kiss you again, rolling his hips to allow the tip of his cock to bump against your entrance, catching the slightest amount. “Please,” you pleaded, arching up to meet him, desperate to feel him filling you.

“I got you,” he ground out, looking down the length of your bodies as he kept thrusting, teasing you and coating his cock in your slick. Impatience seized you, and you reached down, slipping your fingers around the thick length of his cock, guiding him home with a moan that seemed to echo in his chest.

For long seconds, Dean remained still, buried inside you to the hilt, his balls resting against your ass and no sound in the room save for your combined breathing. He watched you, leaning down with one forearm against the bed, his other arm holding his weight off of your body, and you felt his hand cup your face as he brought his lips to yours.

“I love you,” he murmured, looking at you like you were a precious relic, or the first sunrise he’d ever seen. You could feel the blush spreading over your cheeks, but you didn’t have a chance to reciprocate the words, as his lips covered yours and he started to move inside you. He pulled out almost all the way, before sinking back in, and you whimpered into his mouth, bringing your hands up to clutch at his shoulder blades, urging him on.

The world was coming apart around you. Dean was harder than steel, and every drive of his cock into your pussy was hitting exactly the right spot - unsurprising as he’d spent nearly fourteen days mapping your body, discovering what you liked and what made you scream the loudest. But this time, it felt different - maybe it was the heat, or his words, you weren’t sure. Either way, after a few moments of him thrusting, you were coming again, tearing your mouth from his to scream your pleasure into the heavily charged air of the bedroom.

As your body thrummed in the aftermath, Dean pulled away, barely giving you time to mewl your displeasure before he had you on your stomach, his strong hands hooking underneath your hips to lift your ass in the air for him. You panted heavily, clinging to the pillow underneath your head, turning your face to the side so you could breathe, while dipping your spine to push your ass further up for him. Dean groaned at the way you presented, placing one hand on your ass and using his other to line up. He slid home, a primal sound leaving him as he did, and you sucked in a lungful of air as he hit your deepest spots.

“I’m not gonna last long like this,” he exhaled, starting with slow, shallow thrusts that did nothing but increase the pulsing in your core. You nodded against the pillow, holding on so tightly that your knuckles paled with the force of your grip, and Dean’s hands held onto your hips.

“Knot me, Alpha,” you whispered, your words almost lost in the sound of skin on skin, and the Alpha’s growled breathing. He didn’t respond, but you could feel the rim of his knot catching on your entrance with every thrust he gave. 

You’d always been frightened of this, of being claimed, of being someone’s Omega; but you’d never considered someone would be  _ your _ Alpha. With Dean, you knew that although you irrevocably belonged to him, he also belonged to you, and it felt more right than anything you’d ever thought possible. Even with the slight sting of pain that accompanied his size, you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“Fuck,” Dean panted, drowning out your whines of pleasure. “I’m gonna come, gonna knot you, fuck, fuck -” his words cut off as he gave a hard thrust, filling you to the brim with his swollen knot, stretching you like you’d never been stretched before. Even in the dream, it hadn’t felt this good, and there was a moment of clarity as he folded over you, burying his teeth into your neck hard enough to draw a small amount of blood.

His hips were still moving with the force of his orgasm, and you sighed into the pillow as his bite became gentle licks, his warm tongue moving over the broken skin to soothe it. When he finally stopped moving, he kissed along your shoulder, not stopping until his breathing had returned to normal. Gently, he shifted you both onto your sides, pulling you tight against his chest to the point you could feel his heartbeat against your back.

“Best thing I ever did was take you from that place,” he whispered, and you smiled, covering his hands with yours, where they rested over your belly. “You’ve given me so much.”

“You think you haven’t given me anything?” you asked, wishing you could turn to face him. “You freed me. You gave me something to fight for - you’ve given me life in a dead world, Dean.” You paused, smiling as you felt his lips graze the back of your neck. “You gave me a family again.”

“You gave me mine back,” he replied, nuzzling against you. “I didn’t think I’d ever feel love again, ever feel anything resembling  _ normal _ . But you… you gave me the world, Y/N.”

The smile on your face grew as your eyes fluttered shut, exhaustion winning out. Dean’s hips shifted a little, reminding you of your connection, and you suddenly hoped that his earlier words had rung true.

Dean tightened his hold on you, sighing against your shoulder. “I love you,” he reiterated, and this time, you didn’t miss the chance to say it back.

“I love you too, Alpha.”


	24. Bonus Chapter: Happily Ever After

She smiled at him.

Dean smiled back, watching her across the greenery at the front of the bunker, her arm looped delicately around the small form of his son, balanced on her hip. Her belly was round with their second; she was glowing and not just with the sun beating down on her.

The child whined to be let down, and Y/N dropped him gently to his feet. He ran, little feet taking him across the grass towards Cas, who was crouched down, arms wide and waiting to catch him. Both of them giggled as they collided, and Dean laughed with them, moving up the steps towards his family.

Y/N turned, her eyes sparkling as she eyed her mate coming up the steps, and Dean felt a sudden desperate urge to hold her in his arms, to kiss her smooth cheek and tell her that he’d always love her.

A hand clapped on his back, and he jumped turning to see Sam behind him. His brother held a basket in one hand, a wide smile on his face as he nodded in the direction of the three in the garden. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” Dean replied, unable to stop his own smile. “Looks like the weather turned out okay. Where’s Kevin?”

“With Elise, in the library. They’re going to “study”,” Sam chuckled, making air quotes with the hand not holding the basket. “God, you’d think they were actually attached at the hip. It’s sickening.”

“Like you and Jen are much better,” Dean pointed out, pushing Sam gently on the shoulder. “How’s she feeling, anyway?”

Sam grinned, looking over his shoulder at the door to the bunker, beyond which lay his Omega, suffering with morning sickness and laid up in bed. She was only five months gone, around about the same as Y/N, but she wasn’t faring as well with the side effects of pregnancy. “She’s better. Managed to eat this morning. Her appointment in Belleville next week. Maybe their doctor can help.”

The last few years had changed everything in Dean’s life. After so long of being alone, he found himself surrounded by family, friends, and within two cycles, Y/N was pregnant. They’d made extra trips out, finding another community on the edge of Kansas. He’d never actively looked for other survivors, but this community was thriving, as were many others around the country. The world wasn’t so dead after all, and Dean wasn’t sure he’d have found that out if it wasn’t for Y/N in his life.

They’d returned to the compound he’d taken her from, and although many of the Omegas decided to stay, Forrest was put out of business, leaving some of the more kindly Alphas and Betas in charge. Dean had wanted to do it, for Y/N’s sake, because he knew she still thought about the others she’d left behind. And after seeing her memories, Dean was driven to stop that fate from befalling anyone else.

It was the first real day of summer, and their son, Bobby, had insisted on spending it outside. He was a bold little four year old, inquisitive about everything, and hardy to boot, although he rarely left his mama’s side. In some ways, Dean lamented that he’d never have the normal childhood he himself had craved, not in the aftermath of the apocalypse, but at least he’d be safe and loved.

Y/N was praying for a girl this time around.

“Daddy!” Bobby screeched, running away from Cas and his mom, his little legs carrying him over the ground as quickly as he could manage. His bright eyes spotted his uncle Sam, and he swiftly bypassed his father’s arms, and barrelled into his uncle, who laughed and swiped him from the ground with one arm. Dean watched them, his smile so wide it hurt his cheeks, and the boy flung his arms around Sam’s neck.

“At least this one I can give back,” Sam joked, as Dean reached out to take his son, allowing his brother to carry the basket.

“What’s in tha’ basket, Uncle Sammy?” Bobby asked, leaning his head on Dean’s shoulder.

“Picnic food,” Sam replied, smiling and Bobby’s face lit up.

“Is it san-gis?”

“Sandwiches,” Dean corrected, laughing lightly. “And yeah. Your favourite. Good thing PB and J never goes outta date, huh?”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Not the kind he likes.”

Dean hoisted the boy up a little more, pressing a kiss to his temple. “There’s pie too. Mama made it.” Bobby shrieked in delight, before struggling, and his father let him down, letting him run free.

He immediately ran back to his mother, squealing loudly. “Mama, you made pie!”

“Definitely yours,” Sam commented, moving past Dean towards the others. “You coming? Wanna make the most of the day, tire him out?” 

Dean nodded, but didn’t move right away, watching Sam walk towards his Omega, seeing him press a kiss to her cheek in greeting. Bobby had found some sort of insect and was showing it to his uncle Cas, and Y/N stood, framed in sunlight, her hair loose and long, one hand resting over the swell of his child in her belly.

This was life.

The world ended, and he’d lost hope. And somewhere, in the mix of crazy, she’d made everything right again. She’d fixed his heart, and saved his life.

He’d never be more grateful for anything.


End file.
